Gakuen Hetalia
by DarkmoonSigel
Summary: My popular High school AU from DA Almostly told from Alfred's POV with three chapter exceptions. Human names used. Super genius is love struck the class president of the World Academy. What will he do to get the guy? Suck summary is suck. Read it. It's funny. Rated for language and a snarky Canada
1. Chapter 1

FOR THE LOVE OF PASTA, READ THE DAMN WARNING!  
IT IS THERE FOR A REASON…..

Warning: Some of these stories(not all) in the coming chapters will contain Yaoi, some of which may be hardcore. Yaoi is boy x boy love, man meat on man meat, all wieners-no buns. If you are not into that, do not read or complain. You have been fairly warned.

This story and Axis Powers Hetalia depicts people and persons as the direct personification of that nation/country, so if this concept bothers you, this might not be the right story for you, especially if you are unable to mentally grasp that these nations are centuries years old despite their outward appearance.

All people, persons, nations, and whatever represented in these stories are of legal age. No minors of any kind are depicted in these stories by the author, personal perception(s) of the reader(s) aside.

It boils down to this-  
IF YOU DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. IT'S THAT FREAKING SIMPLE!

"FACEPALM"…FOR THE LOVE OF DOITSU AND BEER…..

I have nothing against any characters/states/nations of Hetalia. I understand that everyone has their favorite characters/pairing. I know I do. If you don't like how a character(s) is portrayed, please don't be a hater about it. If you think the writing is shit(I don't know what you expect-it already states I'm a hack on my profile), then write your own damn story about the nations. It is a lot easier to critic that create. Please keep that in mind. And once again-

IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, DON'T READ! NOT A HARD CONCEPT!  
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APH Gakuen Hetalia USUK

One day I met a boy…

First off and most importantly, I am Alfred F. Jones and just maybe I should explain a few things about myself if for some reason you don't recognize my name.

I live with my father, a lawyer and a damn good one at that, in Washington D.C.. My mother lives with my identical twin brother Matthew in Quebec, Canada. Despite a spectacularly failed marriage of truly epic proportions which results with them being unable to be in the same room with each other for more that five minutes at a time, our parents did manage to do one amazing thing and that was to have us-my brother Matthew and I.

For lack of a better word, we're geniuses.

I mean real idiot savant type shit, make a movie out of you, geniuses. I built my first motherboard at the tender age of five, graduated with my first of many master degrees at nine, and by the time I was thirteen, was doing weapons consultation and space development for different sectors of the government. I am on speed dial for most major fortune 500 companies for projections and financial advice. NASA and every independent space program have been basically dry humping my leg ever since I made contact with extraterrestrial life and brokered a peace agreement with them(btw, you are so very welcome Earth). Their ambassador, Tony, lives with me as per our treaty. He is pretty cool for a little gray dude with no ears or nose. He really like Hot Pockets, video games, and Earth swear words(apparently, aliens don't have them…at least not the more colorful ones).

My bro, Matthew, while not tech gifted like myself, can make you feel color and see sound without illegal drugs. An artist that could make Michelangelo look like some amateur street performer and a musician that could put Mozart to shame, Matthew has done scores for countless movies on pure whim alone and has revolutionized the art world time and time again with his shows that shatter everyone's perceived notions on how the world can be viewed. Matthew has done this all under assumed names and personas. He literally is the most famous guy you will never know. Matthew likes his privacy even if it does make him invisible.

My own anonymity is kind of forced on me due to politics(intergalactic and homegrown) and through company contracts(AT&T would not like it getting out that their latest Iphone version was developed by someone who is just learning to drive with mixed results), though I am very famous in very private circles. Dropping my name can get you into or out of a lot of trouble depending who it is.

So that is me is a nutshell-boy genius, basically set for life, not a care in the world…..

Until one day, I met a boy…

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It was an ordinary day, literally nothing special. It wasn't like in the movies where events are set in motion by cosmic forces or serendipity. I wasn't looking for someone or anyone for that matter. I had been looking for a McDonalds. I was in New York City for some boring ass business meeting though you would have never guessed it by the way I was dressed-vintage WWII brown leather aviation jacket, low slung blue jeans over cracked cowboy boots, and a plain white t-shirt with my specially issued dog tags over them that would get me into more places than you could ever imagine.

I was just passing by a some random book store in the Village having completed my burger quest when I saw this blonde go into it.

He was short, wearing blue plaid pants with penny loafers, a stylized blue blazer, vest, and tie-obviously some sort of private school monkey suit. He had the biggest eyebrows I had ever seen on a person before but that wasn't what caught my attention.

It was the expression on his face.

Walking up to the bookstore he looked so cold, even downright hostile, like he would spit in the world's eye for even glancing at him the wrong way…

….but upon reaching the door of this rundown little family bookstore his face lit up to an expression of….

…bliss…just pure unadulterated bliss…like he had finally reached safe haven after a long and perilous journey.

It was beautiful…..he was beautiful.

I dropped my shake from shock numbed hands onto the street in my surprise in the face of such sheer beauty. Thankfully, the object of my adoration had already entered the building and did not bear witness to my clumsiness. Hastily disposing of my demised beverage, I followed him inside into the dank building.

It was a hodgepodge of a bookstore, all random stacks of various literature set out in no particular order, leaning in precarious towers all over any available floor and shelf space. Mismatched and banged up chairs were scattered about with an odd tea cup here and there, hiding out in the valleys of long forgotten novels with dust bunnies as their only company, tiny wayward ships of tepid fluid lost out at a word filled sea. The owner of the establishment sat behind a dusty counter, his nose buried in a book, some old hippie who barely even looked up at me as I entered.

I found my blonde buried deep in the leaning depths of the stacks, lost in dusty volumes of Shakespeare. He was practically bodily curled up around a thick tome of sonnets, his pale lips moving as they read the ancient words of rhyme and measure. My attention was drawn to them entirely, my will to look elsewhere at the moment lost to those praying pilgrims.

They were full and sculpted, the faintest shade of pink. Their petal like surface looked so soft and plaint. I wondered how he would taste as his tongue darted out ever so often to moisten them in his soft reading.

His skin was alabaster. I never believed that anyone could have such milky skin or that I would ever use that word to describe it. It was dew like in its perfection and I longed to mark it as my own.

His hair was pale gold, all choppy and spiky. It stuck up in all directions to trail stray tendrils down his slender neck. It was made more striking in it metallic color by his aforementioned dark brows, the fringe of it mixing oddly harmonious with the top of them.

He turned the pages of his book almost reverently with long elegant fingers, like it was a religious text, his hooded gaze lingering on the yellowed pages with a strange longing that tore at me. His long dark lashes brushed the tops of his creamy cheeks delicately as butterfly wings…..

…..and I was being a total creeper about all this, staring at him through the stacks. I must have made a sound or he just knew when someone was staring holes into his head. My blonde looked up at me and I was blown away.

They were green…his eyes…..I had never seen such green eyes before and never will again. They were the color of forests in spring, of fabled glens told in tales by hobbits, of hidden and lost places untouched. They were acid, burning through the very layers of my souls. They were pools in which I could see myself…..

"What the bloody hell do you think you are looking at you git!?", my blonde asked, his impressive brows furrowing deeply as he pinned me with his endless emerald glare.

Oh fuck me sideways, Merry Christmas, Happy Birthday to me, he was English. Game over, thank you for playing, come again…..

I love him and I will make him mine no matter what it takes or how much is costs me, financially, physically, or emotionally. If he doesn't swing that way, I….wait do I even swing that way?….whatever, moot point, looks like I do now, I will totally have a sex change…

…..Wait a minute…..maybe, I should just ask him out first before I decide on any major surgery or anything else too hasty….getting ahead of myself….I tend to do that…

….wait…..how long have I been doing internal monologue while staring at him not saying anything with my mouth hanging open?

"Knob.", my vision of British loveliness swore at me, getting up hastily to shove past me, clutching his book to his slender body.

….Oh…that long…well….

…..fuck…..

I, boy genius, modern day prodigy, idiot savant…  
…and now just plain idiot, had fallen head over heels in love.

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Finding the love of my life was easy enough, especially for someone like me. The blazer was a dead giveaway. My blonde went to the World Academy, a very private school based here in the Big Apple. Think of a private academy with all the bells and whistles for the rich brats of CEO's, ambassador's kids, blah, blah, blah….state of the art facilities, dormitories, etc, etc,. It was literally a little city within the city. I found myself wondering why my little love nugget felt the need to leave it to traverse to some little dingy bookstore in Soho. Surely the campus had better resources.

I found out his identity by hacking into all the cameras in New York(God, I love big cities for this) and pulling up his school profile ID. The love of my life's name was Arthur Kirkland. He was class president and the son of Lord Kirkland of England. Curious, I went a step further and took a look into his home life.

Some more computer leg work later(really, government computers are so easy to slice and dice) I found out that Arthur was the youngest son of Lord Albion Kirkland who apparently was one hell of a promiscuous son of a bitch. He had three older sons, all bastards, by three different woman. The guy took a rather interesting and unique tour of the UK. The oldest was Connor from Scotland, the Irish twins-Ryan and Murphy, and Hywel from Wales, making Arthur the youngest and the only legit son. Lord Kirkland had actually deigned to marry his mother, on English woman of the name Emily. She had passed away soon after Arthur was born though. It looked like he was set to inherit everything.

Judging though from his record at Scotland Yard, Arthur was a bit of a rebel and had run into some trouble-mostly disorderly and drunken conduct. His mug shots were adorable though. I really hoped that some of those facial piercings were still open. Turned out my little Shakespeare darling used to be a punk. I wondered how much of him was still.

After bailing Arthur out of trouble-for the umpteenth time-Lord Kirkland took an ambassador position and packed up his entire family to move them all to NYC.

…..Interesting….

The more and more I thought about it, the more it intrigued me. The boy who had taken haven in an old book store did not come off as a punk….

…..more like someone lost…

I spun around in my chair trying to decide to the best way to approach this. The school's symbol in the corner of my screen caught my eye as a slow wide grin spread on my face, an idea already forming in my head. I called my old man.

"Hey dad! Looks like I'm going to stay in New York for a while!"

"What for?", he asked surprised. New York isn't one of my favorite hangout cities cause of business. I am more of a Tokyo, Seattle, Stockholm kind of guy. I like my modern hangouts fast and wireless. If you are wondering, Mattie likes San Francisco, Paris, and of course Florence, little visual art whore that he is.

"Something came up. I'm moving out here for a while till it's done.", I answered lightly, grinning as I heard my father huff into the phone.

"Al, I am still the parent here. You just can't call and inform me that you have decided to live in New York.", Dad told me in a tone he usually reserved for the court room. How cute. Pops wanted to play 'Leave it to Beaver' dad.

"True, but I can inform you I can still legally divorce you as a parent and sue you for incompetent misuse of my personal funds. While you waste time with that, I'll roll over another cool couple of million while you drain your retirement fund.", I said calmly in almost teasing tone. Poor bastard. I had read all of dad's law books by age eight and had already taken the bar at eleven purely for shits and giggles. There was a long pause over the line.

"Valid point. Enjoy New York and try to stay out of trouble. You know I hate those late night phone calls from the president."

"Love you too Dad. Tell Tony move his gray ass off of the couch and come join me if he wants.", I grinned. It was all in good fun and Dad knew I would never make good on my threat. He enjoyed the counterpoint though, it kept him on his toes. My next phone call was to my brother.

"Hey Mattie! Do ya wanna go to high school with me bro?!"

"….."

"….."

"…..What?"

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Getting into the school was a cinch….or was supposed to be. With my grades and money, they should have been paying me to go there. Wanting to keep it quiet of who and what I was …that was another matter entirely as I met with the Head Master of the World Academy.

The Headmaster was an older Italian guy, the real right off of the boat variety not the watered down Jersey Shore version. He had dark sun bronzed features, rich chocolate hair with two peculiar curls(though I am not one to judge-I have a defiant piece of hair on my forehead that I have affectionately dubbed Nantucket), piercing brown eyes that held a devilish twinkle in their depths, and a wide easy smile.

"You do realize that this is highly unusual.", Rome said slowly, looking over my transcripts. I could technically run the entire science department on my amount of master degrees alone. Hell, I was way more qualified to teach it than some of the jokers they had hired.

"How much does 'highly unusual' cost?", I asked, cutting to the chase. It's amazing the amount of bullshit you can avoid by just throwing money at it.

"Well…..I have been wanting to give my grandsons(Wait a hot minute! Grandsons?! How old was this guy?!) a new gallery to show off their work…..it's just an idea though. A foolish notion of a doting grandparent.", Rome said with a sly smile, the wily bastard. I wrote down an amount. He raised an eyebrow at it.

"I was hoping for a nice one. They are twins.", he sighed dramatically, playing the theatrics to the hilt. I rolled my eyes as I added on another zero to the amount. He nodded, quickly taking the check with a wolfish grin.

"Welcome to the World Academy Mr. Jones. It's wonderful to have you here with us." Rome grinned.

"My brother will be here soon from Canada.", I added warily, not surprised to see the old man's eyes light up. He rubbed his stubbly chin thoughtfully.

"I was thinking about putting in a garden to go along with that gallery….."

"Of course you were.", I sighed as I reached for my checkbook again. Greedy old bastard.

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I kept busy my first day, ditching class and acquainting myself with the school. I briefly considered joining the football team until I found out it was just soccer. I avoided seeking out my love right off until I could calm down a bit and not have a repeat moment of awkwardness. I also didn't want to scare the guy off in my excitement by saying something stupid like " Hi! I'm the creeper from the bookstore. I just dropped a small fortune to come stalk you at your school. Oh and I hacked into just about every major government website to view you and your family's history, so no worries there either. Can I buy you an island?"

…..Yeah…..totally normal and not creepy…..

I presented myself finally the next day to a class who barely batted an eye at such a late arrival in the semester. Part of my deal with Rome was Arthur's class schedule and a seat near him. I didn't know how the old man pulled it off but he did. After a brief but enthusiastic intro, I plopped myself down beside my future husband. He didn't even look up at me, his pert nose deep in a book.

Hmmmmmmm…this might take longer than I expected….


	2. Chapter 2

My study of the ceiling, the mapping out of new constellations and all their gravitational proportions was very rudely cut short when a pillow slammed into the side of my head.

"Ok hoser! What the hell am I doing in New York?! And why I going to high school?! Last time I checked, one of the perks of having an IQ well over 140 was that we got to skip all this shit…..", Matthew-my twin, modern day Renaissance artisan master, and very annoyed Canadian -growled, getting ready to launch into a rant of epic proportions. He hated it when I dragged him kicking and screaming out of his beloved homelands of maple syrup, bagged milk, and ketchup flavored chips.

"Sorry bro, didn't see you there.", I yawned just to annoy the shit out of him as I winged a folder at his own head. To my chagrin he caught it deftly, perusing its detailed contents with tanzanite shaded eyes.

"I'm here so you can get laid?", Matthew raised an eyebrow at me not impressed, his tone dark and menacing with promise of imminent violence with a hockey stick.

"Not just laid! Check out that sweet time line!", I said quickly. He shuffled through the rest of the folder a little more thoroughly this time.

"….Really, two kids?"

"I like even numbers."

"I didn't think you played for my team.", Matthew pursed his lips thoughtfully. He had sorted himself out a long time ago and had come out to all of us by the time he was twelve. Not that is was a shocker or anything. Mattie is as gay as a treeful of monkeys and always has been. I had been pretty much gender neutral up to this point really. My first and only love up to that fateful day had been for science, exploration, and adventure….ok, that is loves, but you get my meaning.

"I didn't either, but this guy….", I trialed off with a shrug. I was surprised to find my brother looking at me sadly for some reason. I stared back to watch him shake his head. Apparently I had missed something. That happens a lot with me. I am total shit at reading a room. Build you a working AI from scratch, no problem. Notice that elephant in the room, forget about it.

"So why am I here Al?", Matthew sighed, fiddling with the polar bear cub I made him a while ago. It looked up at him curiously. "Who are you?", Kumajirou(don't look me, I didn't name the fucking thing) asked. The bear is an android I made a while back to keep my solitary twin company. Unfortunately the damn thing has a permanent glitch in its memory core that I have never been able to fix. It probably doesn't help that Matthew can't ever seem to remember what he named the damn thing.

"Because a hero needs his sidekick?", I laughed nervously, scratching the back of my head. I didn't want to admit it but I had no idea what I was doing and I hate going into any project totally blind, which is a rarity for me.

"Fuck you. I going home.", Matthew snapped. Opps…..my bad…..I totally forgot that Mattie hates it when I call him my sidekick. Everyone tends to forget that I have an equally though differently talented twin. Being in the presence of an alien race will tend to do that. Though Mattie likes his privacy, he doesn't like to be forgotten.

"No! No! Wait! I….I need your help.", I stammered, admitting defeat…..just not in detail. Hopefully that would be enough to satisfy my brother.

"With what?", Matthew challenged. Apparently not…crap.

"Well….you're French.", I stalled, hoping to distract.

"No. I'm Canadian. I know you have problems with maps Al, but c'mon, even you know where Canada is in relation to Europe."

"Yeah well, there are a lot of French people there."

"Alfred. Get to your point or else I am leaving.", Matthew ultimatumed, his patience having run out as he pinched the bridge of his nose. I heaved a heavy sigh knowing my time was up.

"I don't know how to approach him. I can't figure out that part of the equation.", I admitted, sagging under my lack of relationship/dating knowledge.

"Really?", Matthew's eyebrows shot up in surprise. I shot him a wary look. He knows how much I hate admitting defeat.

"Yes, really. You've dated way more, so yes, I am seeking….consultation."

"You said help a minute ago."

"Don't rub it in.", I sighed, "Fine, yes. Help me Obi wan. You are my only hope."

"Well first off, don't quote Star Wars lines. That usually doesn't go over well when you're trying to hook up."

"Dully noted."

Matthew eyed the folder intently again. "Al…this guy Arthur…."

"Yeah?"

"He is well…..", Matthew nibbled his bottom lip hesitantly.

"Perfect, gorgeous, stunning, elegant, attractive….", I helpfully supplied.

"Wow, someone got a thesaurus. No, he looks a little high strung and is not anything like you.", Matthew finished rather bluntly. I puffed out my cheeks in annoyance at him.

"SO?!"

"So, he is class president, a member of the embroidery club, the tea club, and the cooking club.", Matthew pointed out, tapping the file.

"He is also taking archery, horseback riding, and fencing. That's cool!", I rallied. My Arthur was perfect, despite having some really old lady pursuits, but at least he could cook.

"Um yeah no….how can I put this delicately or in way you can understand? He is a cultured aristocrat…..", Matthew started out slowly his gaze directed at the ceiling as if to find some divine answer from it.

"And?", I prompted helpfully.

"You're not."

"…"

"…"

"So what?",

"So you have nothing to talk about! Coupled with your permanent foot in mouth disease and total lack of social skills, what the hell do you know aboot English culture anyway?!", Matthew threw his hands up in mock despair, the little drama queen he was.

"I like Doctor Who.", I answered. That show was made there and all the actor spoke in accents. Maybe I should have mentioned tea as well…Hmmmmm…. Matthew looked less than impressed with that comment, even going so far as to roll his eyes at me.

"Brilliant. You're a shoe in.", Matthew said dryly, throwing the folder back to me. I clutched it to my chest, my heart sinking in the face of his total disinterest and dismissal.

"Matthew….", my twin paused as I whispered his full name. We never use our full names unless it is important, "I love him. I know I sound crazy and I don't know why I do. I can't explain it but I love him. Please….I really need your help." I looked at him with wide puppy dogs eyes, the kind he can never turn down.

"Oh Maple….", Matthew sighed, motioning tiredly for the folder again. He sat down next to me on the bed and went through everything page by page. I tried not to fidget too much in my excitement and impatience. If anyone could find an in, it would be Matthew.

"Hmmmmm….All of his grades are excellent…..except for science. It looks like he is failing it. You could offer to tutor him. It would give you a chance to be alone with him in a safe setting and…..why the hell are you wearing that look?", Matthew glared at me as I grinned uneasily, the expression wobbly.

"Ummmm…..yeah….about that…..", I laughed weakly.

"Al….", Matthew said warningly, so I came clean.

"The guy is uber boring! And he has no idea what he is teaching about. His grasp of Einstein's theory of relativity and its applications is rudimentary at best. I mean seriously, it's just tragic to hear. Like a monkey banging a banana against a chalk board….", I started to explain.

"So basically you have just been sleeping through class, eh?"

"Um…maybe?"

"I'll take that as a yes.", Matthew rolled his eyes as he hit me over the head with the folder, "I'll talk to your teacher and the headmaster aboot all this and come to an arrangement. If anything, we will just force tutoring on your little lord, solely for his academic benefit of course." I shivered at how devious my twin looked as a plan formed in his mind. All he needed was a fat cat in his lap to stroke and he would be set as a Bond villain.

"Better bring your check book.", I suggested. Knowing the greedy old bastard Rome, the headmaster would probably want some damn fountains to go with his gallery and garden by now.

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So a couple of days later in study hall during a free period….  
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" Oh sweet mother of….You are my bloody tutor?!"

I leaned back in my chair to look up into furious eyes the color of fresh acid. "Yup!", I grinned toothily.

My Englishman looked less than enthralled at the prospect of my company, that much was clear. I would change his mind though soon enough and sweep him off of his penny loafered feet…

….right?


	3. Chapter 3

Ok…..tutoring didn't go so well as I would have liked….

Arthur promptly turned on his loafered heel to leave. I scrambled out of my seat to block his way, grinning madly at him in my panic.

"Where are ya going short stuff?! We got science…", I forced out a laugh. I was met with a harsh glare. Ouch, strike one. Sensitive about his height. Check.

"I am not going to be taught by some buffoon.", Arthur seethed, looking like he was ready to throw his book bag at my head. I appreciated his refrain.

"This buffoon has perfect scores unlike someone here who is barely passing by the skin of his teeth.", I said in a sing song voice, shifting my weight back and forth on my heels to burn off some nervous energy. All I wanting to do was hug this angry yet adorable man and it was driving me crazy.

"Poppycock. I don't believe you.", Arthur spat back, his face set with obvious contempt. I shrugged, returning back to the table.

"Check it out with the teacher then or even better, the headmaster himself, then come find me. I'll wait right here for you sunshine, but not all day. I've got one hell of a burger craving coming on.", I grinned lazily at him, trying desperately to play it cool. Arthur shot me another dirty look before he stormed off.

Arthur took his sweet ass time but eventually he did come back which was good cause I was kinda serious about the whole burger craving thing.

I…..I, well for lack of a better word, really screwed the fuck up. I was a fat kid and a fatter preteen, mostly due to the fact I sat on my ass a lot in front of computers and books all day. Couple that with one hell of a major sweet tooth and you got yourself one hell of a major fatass. Instead of exercising and dieting like a normal person, I ended up dabbling in biological enhancement and experimentation….which led to some mixed results. I invented this super serum that gave me the perfect body with no workout and/or dieting, with the added bonus that it cleared up acne, and even gave me a permanent tan. Seriously, I have the body of an Adonis.

So why aren't you hearing about this miracle cure for obesity on Weight Watchers…well, it had some side effects…one of them being superhuman strength. Awesome I know, right?! But the other side effect was continuous ravenous hunger. My metabolism is insane now and I constantly need to eat. It is even worse in the winter cause my body has to work harder to keep my body's core temperature up. I basically shut down in cold weather and tend to hibernate. As a result of all this, I am constantly shoving food into my face in mass quantities. McDonalds has become my port in this storm with their high calorie dollar menu, availability, and easy accessibility.

I did try perfecting the serum….once…..with mixed results. I gave the second version of it to Matthew(don't look at me like that, he volunteered willingly….sort of….) due to his near identical physiology. He got the super strength though it is not as great as mine. It also made him faster than me, though only marginally, but with no tan…...or any option of a tan. It also gave him a near inhuman resistance to cold, the complete opposite of me. The only real drawn back from it is that Matthew has an odd and select dependence on maple syrup now and has to drink the stuff pretty much daily. One of the reasons he lives in Canada where the shit literally grows on trees, and one of the reasons I live in America where there is a 24hr McDonalds on every corner.

The serums affected our vision as well. We have to wear glasses I developed to see in normal spectrums. Matthew is happier without them I think. Apparently being able to see in multiple light spectrums has really effected his art in interesting and new directions. I personally find it useful cause it makes it easier to scan mass compositions of raw materials without the aid of a machine but whatever. Each to his own I guess. Besides that, it turned our eyes interested shades of color you normally don't see without the aid of contacts. My eyes are a neon sky blue that glow faintly in the dark while Matthew's are a shade of blue purple that shift and shimmer like the aurora borealis. It's pretty fucking sweet but the glasses are a must if we want to come off as normal.

It also did weird things to our erogenous zones…ummm…let's just say that we cut each others hair now cause we know what to avoid….Obviously Matthew is better at it, hence why he has shoulder length hair and I do not. My skill sets really doesn't run too deep in hair care.

Anyway, I could put off my burger mass murder for a while still though. With my alien friend Tony's help, I basically installed a portable pocket dimension in my WWII aviator jacket's pockets so that I can carry a near infinite amount of snacks with me at all times. It is one of the reasons you will rarely see me without it(even though it is against this school's dress code-it cost me a pretty penny with Rome to permanently overlook it). Besides being obviously useful, I look fucking sexy as hell in it.

Arthur didn't look like he was nomming on the smex sandwich I was serving though if his sour face was any clear indication.

"I still don't believe it.", Arthur grumbled, hugging his book bag to his chest as if it was some sort of talisman that would keep me away. Not likely. He could be hugging a nuke for all I cared, I would still glomp his sexy British ass.

"Believe it or not, I'm the real deal!", I grinned proudly. I was still being met with a rather hostile look. I'm not the most observant guy in social circles but I'm pretty damn sure I know contempt when I see it.

"You are that prat from the bookstore.", Arthur glowered, still standing far away from me.

Oh shhhhhiiiitttttttt…c'mon, think fast Jones. Earn that fucking genius card you have been toting…..

"Oh that? Sorry dude. Totally my bad. I moved here recently and had just looked through all the junk for this school that morning. You're are the class president so I remembered seeing your picture. I was just really surprised to see someone I recognized right off the bat in a strange city.", I explained quickly, "I wasn't sure if I should introduce myself or not. I kinda suck at social situations if you haven't noticed." That seemed to mollify him a bit, enough so that he actually sat down next to me. I tried not to wiggle like a happy puppy as I broke out into a cold sweat at the exact same time. He was so close I could smell the barest hints of his scent, a heady mixture of black tea, heather, and something else lightly floral. I grinned like an idiot at him but damn it, he was so cute….

"Is there something on my face? You keep looking at me weird.", Arthur asked warily, meeting my gleeful expression with a suspicious one. Oh shit…..how long had I been staring at him again not saying anything…I really got to stop doing that.

"Oh….um…ah…eyebrows?", I fumbled. Matthew had told me repeatedly to compliment Arthur on some sort of facial feature. Arthur's face turned a very interesting shade of red as those impressive brows furrowed deeply to knit together.

The player goes to the line, he shoots, he sc…he gets punched in the face. Arthur's little but very hard and pointy fist connected with my jaw to send me flying out of my seat and onto the floor.

Wow, strike two. Very Sensitive about his eyebrows. Check.

"You Git!", Arthur yelled before storming off again calling a definite end to our first tutoring session. I watched him go from my spot on the floor all the while touching my now very swollen cheek. All I could think about was that he had touched me. It was all I ever wanted and more. I would never wash this side of my face again.

Crap…I had it bad but I had to fix this situation. I couldn't have my little love nugget constantly running away from me now could I?

I found him rather easily in the school's rather impressive garden. It had rare flowers from all over the world in it and even had a huge hothouse/greenhouse for the more delicate specimens. I knew he would be in the rose garden section, the fragrant bloom being his favorite flower. He sat huddled up on a stone bench in a shady, almost hidden corner as if he was hiding. From what, I had no idea. From the looks of it, he came here often from the lines of Shakespeare written all over the bench and I had only just arrived. He glared at me as I drew nearer. I made myself stop a little ways off from him, giving him his space. He blatantly ignored me, pulling out a book from his messenger bag to bury himself into it. I licked my lips nervously as I shuffled my feet.

"I…I didn't mean to insult you…", I started, stammering a bit in my nervousness. His near presence affected me greatly, especially in the whole talking area. I could win arguments with some of the most intelligent scientists on Earth in three sentences or less, but I couldn't seem to fit three words together so save my relationship with this beautiful man.

"Well you are doing a fine job of it, git.", Arthur snapped, not even bothering to look up at me from his book. I clenched my hands in frustration and tried taking a deep breath before I said something really stupid. Awwww, screw it. Go for broke Jones. I plopped down beside the Englishman who regarded me with an infuriated look for just daring to sit on his bench. I pushed forward blindly, desperately.

"I really didn't mean to though! I like them! I mean I really like you!", I said before I could stop myself. Arthur's expression changed dramatically to one of pure shock. He blinked at me, gingerly touching his dark brows as he searched my face for some sort of deceit.

"….You do?….but why would you? You don't even know me…..", Arthur mumbled, shifting uncomfortably under my constant enamored gaze.

"I just do. Do I have to have a reason to like you?", I asked with a shy smile, moving the tiniest bit closer to him. I would like him in my lap but it seemed a little too early for that. Arthur managed out a stiff kind of laugh, gesturing to himself vaguely.

"You will have to forgive my total disbelief of your statement. My own family despised me. Everyone I know dislikes me for some reason or another.", Arthur said rather blandly in a self-deprecating way. He grew still after saying that as if lost in thought or emotion, his slender hands folded neatly in his lap, his fair head slightly bowed. He looked…..so….

…..lonely.

"I'm not everyone.", I said softly, tilting my head to catch a look at the emerald of his gemlike eyes. I was granted with a full view as he looked up in surprise at me, "If you will let me, I would really like to be your friend."

I managed to scoot even closer in his moment of surprise until our thighs were almost touching. My arms itched to throw their lengths around his form and pull him flush to me. I wanted to run my fingers through his fields of golden hair and twirl those silken fibers in my exploration. I wanted…..

Whoa. Calm down there Jones. Let's try getting him on speaking terms first. Molestation second.

"I do not have friends.", Arthur stated, looking away from me, the top of his cheeks reddening with a faint blush. I took the opportunity to close the gap between us. He noticed this though turning quickly around to glare at me.

"Good. That just means I can be your best friend then!", I grinned, hugging him tightly to me before he could even decide to move. He squawked loudly at the action and tried to shove me off, but my huggage would not be denied. Fuck baby steps. I wanted my love taco now. I finally let him go when I realized super strength was making it hard for him to breathe but plus side, lack of breathe kept him from running away from me again.

"I am afraid you will get the worse end out of the deal. I have never had a friend and have no idea how to keep one.", Arthur managed out after he had re-caught his breathe. He moved away from me but didn't leave so…..progress?

"That's fine. I am total shit at social situations myself.", I admitted gleefully. Arthur rolled his beautiful eyes at me.

"Brilliant. What a fine pair we will make then. Worthless and hopeless.", Arthur laughed, his tone more bitter than jovial. He froze when I cupped the side of his face with a firm hand, making him look at me.

"You are neither of those things. Don't ever say that about yourself again.", I said firmly in a severe tone that even surprise me with its intensity. Arthur pulled away out of my grasp shakily, moving back from me again to what he deemed a safe enough distance. He made a study of his hands, seeming unable to meet my continuous gaze.

"One of them was meant for you…..", Arthur chuckled, trying to play it off. I would not let something like that go though. The love of my life was glorious and I would find the bastard who had made him think otherwise. I would make him pay dearly for that moment of self doubt in my beloved's eyes.

"Then I'll take them both.", I said quietly. Arthur looked up at me with those brilliant forest eyes I longed to get lost forever in to study me with a peculiar look, one I could not decipher.

"You are a very strange person, Mr. Jones.", Arthur murmured, shaking his head at me as if trying to escape a wandering notion. I grinned back at him, getting up to give him a mock bow.

"I will take that as a compliment then. Despite my strangeness, I am still willing to teach you science if you are up for it.", I said graciously, offering my hand to him. He accepted the free appendage after a long(and totally tense on my part) moment.

"If you must…", Arthur sighed, using me to pull himself up finally.

"It is my duty as a hero of science!", I yelled, striking an awesome pose. Arthur raised an impressive eyebrow at me.

"Oh and by the way, I would rather you call me Al, Iggy.", I added, getting ahead of myself again as my Englishman's face clouded up dangerously.

"Don't call me that, git!", Arthur scowled, hitting me with his book bag.

Ok…Uber sensitive about his name. Check. Strike three-you are out Jones.

Oh well, at least we are on speaking term now. It's only a matter of time.


	4. Chapter 4

Matthew's POV

My computer turned on all by itself and while some people may blame the supernatural or other outside forces for this type of occurrence, I knew it was only Al calling. Things like normalcy and boundaries never stops my brother when he feels the need to talk to someone. It's very disconcerting when he does it through televisions though. Nothing looks crazier than arguing with a display stand in the mall because your twin had a sudden burning urge to tell you aboot the composition of a new micro atom he just discovered or the latest Halo movie news.

I sighed as I set aside my art pad and charcoals. Inspiration would just have to come find me again later. Ignoring Alfred meant running the risk my Ipod would only play country music until I was forgiven for that most grievous of slights.

"Hey Mattie! Do ya wanna go to high school with me bro?!"

I stared at the screen displaying my overly enthusiastic sibling grinning widely at me as my brain tried to process his latest odd request.

"…..What?", It seemed like a fair and reasonable question.

"Hiiiiiigggggghhhhh ssssccchhhhooolllll.". Alfred repeated, drawing the word out long like I was slow. I rubbed my temples gingerly in sudden irritation, reaching for my ever present bottle of maple syrup. It way too early in the morning for this shit…or was it afternoon…..what time was it? The clock wasn't helpful not given an am or pm with it time offering and my phone was buried somewhere under the heap of chaos that was my art studio(hence why Al always tends to call me on any screen available, that irritating little genius). I considered him again as I took a long pull from the leaf shaped bottle.

"Al…Have you been eating too much candy and watching bad 80's movies again? You know how you get when you do that.", I tried to reason with him.

"NO! I need you! It's important! Like bubblegum in hair important!", my twin whined, showing how mature he was in all of his sixteen years. Mom would be so proud.

But…..

Al rarely said anything was actually important and even more rarely ever asked for my help. I was curious, despite myself, aboot what could have gotten him to this point.

"Fine. Where am I going?", I sighed, giving up the ghost of resistance. I just knew he wasn't going to be anywhere convenient in Canada either. With any luck, he wouldn't be somewhere that had a double digit flight time.

"New York City.", Al answered, actually having the decency to cringe a little when he said it.

"You're fucking with me, eh?", I growled. The Big Apple was not one of my favorite spots and I was frankly a little surprised Al was there because I knew it wasn't one of his either. Al's declination of it was solely based on business though. Personally, I had the worst luck with love in New York. It left the bad taste of time wasted, empty ice cream cartons, and disappointment in my mouth.

"Sounds great but I am showing my new line in Milan soon, I got an exhibition in Paris next month, not to mention I'm wrapping up two soundtracks in the studio….", I trotted out my life in an effort to deflect. There was a long pregnant pause from Al, his face filling up the screen so that it was just showed his eyes, his big impossibly blue sparkling eyes.

"Mattie…please?", he asked quietly, his tone closer to my usual own, all soft and whispery.

I told myself to look away, for my resolve to hold true, to not cave like I had done so many times before in the full view of 'kicked puppy face of hurt and begging." Be strong Matthew! Remember the last time!? You now have to drink maple syrup every day for the rest of your life…which admittedly isn't really a bad thing or the hot body that came with the deal…..No, no, not giving in!

"I'll be on the next plane out.", I caved, slapping the laptop shut.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOO  
Three very bad friends loitered outside of the cafeteria taking up several lunch tables as their own personal domain. The trio talked shit about anyone who dared pass their way. Some were taunted like the Austrian aristocrat and his unlikely Hungarian girlfriend who was the daughter of a major crime lord there. Some were molested like the Headmasters' grandchildren, the Italian twins, one of which a member of the trio was dating. Some were mocked like the Greek poet who was constantly followed around by cats(and who sleepily ignored them) and a certain German brother(who threatened them within an inch of their lives). It wasn't even noon yet, and the infamous Bad Friend Trio of the World Academy was bored. Very bored. Not a very safe state of mind…

…for other people and their wanting to remain untouched vital regions.

"So who iz zis new hatass in class?", Francis Bonnefoy- French pretty boy aristocrat, self entitled world's best lover, and walking sexual harassment lawsuit-asked in overly bored tones as he studied his manicured nails for any sort of imperfection.

"You mean asshat, wino. The better question would be 'which one?'.", Gilbert Beilschmidt-self proclaimed Prussian grandson of the school's vice principal Germania, proud albino of awesome, and resident bad boy-corrected coarsely. He played with his canary Gilbird, his constant companion and current source of distraction.

"I think he means the one who has been following el presidente around.", Antonio Fernandez Carriedo-slacker prince of Spain, tomato and Italian lover extraordinaire, and pedo of the cute- supplied helpfully with a lazy smile.

"Oui. Him. Ze self proclaimed hero.", Francis nodded.

"Self proclaimed moron you mean. I can think of better ways of spending my time than having my dick torn off and shoved up my ass by Kirkland. Why the hell is he following Lord Eyebrows around anyway? Is he a masochist or just plain stupid?", Gilbert wondered aloud as he started to flick bits of soggy paper at the nervous Latvian student, the school's known crybaby, who had made the grievous mistake of wanting to eat lunch outside today. Antonio and Francis made quick bets with each other on how many it would take for the Latvian to break down. Francis won when the tiny student ran off after only three.

"Maybe he is an old amigo?", Antonio ventured after a long moment of silence. Francis shook his fair head though.

"Psssh. Non, non, non. I have known rosbif all of hiz miserable life and Monsieur Jones iz not a friend. I have never met or seen him and I know everyone who iz anyone.", Francis said, the social butterfly(i.e. slut) of the European trust fund and party scene. Not only that, but the Bonnefoys and the Kirklands social ties literally went back centuries. Arthur and Francis had known each other since they were little with a mutual dislike for one another.

"Yeah maybe over there, but Jones is so obviously American, he probably shits red, white, and blue. Could have met him here.", Gilbert reasoned, putting his bird back on the top of his silver head for safe keeping. The canary nestled down contently in its messy nest of spiky locks.

"Not likely. Lord Kirkland iz very…selective of who befriends hiz heir. Besides, our little lord does not possess the skillz to make friends, much less the talent to keep their company.", Francis sniffed, having been forced in the Englishman's company due to social events. Needless to say they usually didn't end well with the two of them in the same room for long periods of time.

"Well whoever he is, he is loaded.", Antonio mused vaguely, staring off into space.

"La, we are all rich men's sons", Francis shrugged, unimpressed by his Spanish companion's observation.

"Nein, the pedo is right. This guy is tossing around some major cash and it looks like it's his own. The old pervert is building that gallery he has been wanting for the brats entirely out of imported Italian marble. Vati about popped a vein over it until he made Rome cough up where he had gotten the money from.", Gilbert smirked. Vati referred to his tall, brusque grandfather who could put the fear of god into the most battle hardened veteran with just a look.

"I heard something similar from my Lovi.", Antonio added to the gossip, being in a semi-permanent and tumultuous relationship with one of the Headmaster's grandchildren, " Apparently it was to keep something about his identity secret."

"That makes him worth keeping an eye on, I think, even if he iz a dullard.", Francis tapped his scruffy chin thoughtfully.

"You will need both eyes. Jones has a brother coming here to. Vati had to shuffle a lot of people around to comply to some agreement Rome made with them.", Gilbert mused, not particularly too happy with the thought of the American having a sibling. With his luck, the kid would be just as annoying and loud as Alfred. Gilbert hated competition.

"Hmmmm….That makes it even more interesting. 'Favorz' are not cheap.", Francis's eyebrows shot up in mild surprise. The Headmaster's greedy underhanded ways were well known but few were ever actually willing(or able) to pay his outrageous prices.

"Whatever. He is probably a dipshit just like his bruder.", Gilbert growled, growing bored of the conversation.

"Oui but…", Francis started to say but was interrupted when I raised my own dulcet voice after I had been waiting ever so patiently for a break in the conversation to ask the trio a simple question.

I mean seriously, how long am I going to have to stand here before one of these idiots notices me, eh?! I tend to be a quiet guy but I'm not invisible damn it!

"Excusez-moi de vous deranger but can you please tell me where the dormitories are located?", I attempted to stay polite despite the fact they obviously had a rather low opinion about my brother who always seemed to manage to make a lasting, but not always positive, impression on people.

Thanks to Al's tendency to over research everything(and hack anything with a data file) and my own huge social network within the art community, I knew all about the major players of the campus without any introductions. My choices were dumb manwhore, loud manwhore, or super manwhore. Oh, joy.

I had been aboot to go find some else to ask directions when they started to talk aboot Alfred and some guy named Kirkland. From what I gathered, it seemed like my darling baby brother(by two minutes) was crushing hardcore on some English snob. Oh Holy Maple, that had better not be why Alfred brought me here….

….still though, color me intrigued…..until they started talking shit about Al and oddly enough me.

I made the three jump in surprise, having not noticed my arrival or presence at all till now. They stared back at me wide eyed, the Prussian in particular seeming transfixed, his crimson eyes meeting mine solidly. I glanced back and forth between them waiting for an answer to my rather simple question, letting my unique gaze linger over the top of my glasses at them.

Well that was interesting…

Thanks to Al, I can see a hell of a lot more than most people. I don't know what my brother sees but I can see people's energy floating around them like an aura. After a while and some practice, I figured out that different colors in that energy field signified different emotions.

Francis was glowing crimson with lust like a bulb in the red light district.

Antonio…wow, I mean really wow. I got more color out of a bowl of lime Jell-O than what the Spaniard was giving off. The guy was kinda just like a mind mush of dull happiness in shades of pleasant yellow.

The albino though…..Gilbert was given off an entire palette range of emotion, cycling through shades in pink which meant different types of love, various hues of red for lust, attraction, and want to darker cool tones of nervousness, stress, and even some fear. That was…..interesting.

"Hon, hon, hon!"

Gilbert shot a look at Francis, both of us noting his hungry leer, and promptly tripped one of his best friends as the Frenchman rose to meet me, his signature flower already in hand. Francis face planted with an audible smack that made me even wince(and I play hockey). Gilbert moved to take his place but was intercepted by a quickly recovered Frenchman who grabbed his ankle, making the Prussian lose balance as well. This sort of thing continued for a while soI gave up on them and turned to the last member of the trio who was just smiling pleasantly down at them.

"The dormitories are down the path beyond the courtyard behind us and to your right amigo.", Antonio informed me, "But only students are allowed into them." I was still in my street clothes at this point. I really wasn't looking forward to wearing blue plaid pants.

"Oh I am a student. I just transferred here. Thank you for your help.", I said lightly, turning to leave. Francis and Gilbert seemed to call a truce long enough to jump up and block my escape.

"Do not run off yet, mon ami. Stay and introduce yourself. We, myself in particular, would love to make your very close acquaintance.", Francis purred huskily, making the sentence sound a lot dirtier than it should have. I barely stopped myself from rolling my eyes at him.

"Ja, what he said.", Gilbert grinned, ignoring the Frenchman's heel digging into his foot as he pinched him back in retaliation.

"Moi? Perhaps some other time. I have someone waiting for me.", I yawned, clearly unimpressed with either offer. I had to give them props though, neither one of them gave up easily.

"So cold for someone who speaks the language of love so well.", Francis managed a sexy pout, twirling his rose seductively at me.

"At least give us your name, since we were awesome and helped you out.", Gilbert more ordered than asked, totally ignoring the fact that it had been Antonio that had actually helped me out.

"Very well. I am Matthew Williams of Canada. I am the 'dipshit's bruder'.", I grinned slyly as the pair's jaws dropped in dismayed shock. I was easily able to maneuver around them now and continued on my merry way, the sounds of a new fight breaking out in my quake marked by some interesting German and French cursing.

Maple, what weird ass people.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOO

After a long open talk with Al and a very pricey one with the Headmaster, I was giving Al some last minute pointers in study hall right before his first date/tutor session/convince this guy he was normal…and having him do all my homework, one of my conditions for entering high school. I certainly wasn't going to waste my time with it, but I didn't want to be bothered by the teachers either. I was purely here for moral support….and to get laid…there were actually some very decent prospects here. I had already met a Danish prince and a Dutch soccer player who both fit the bill nicely for a little fun. One of them even came with his own party favors, which was an added bonus since the states were still slow aboot their legalization of some important basics and I needed a hookup here.

"I don't know why you just don't do this. It's not like it's hard.", Alfred grumbled filling out the answers with barest attention as he played Angry Birds on his phone.

"Because you want to get laid so that makes you my butt monkey.", I said unmoved by his complaints. I could have done it easily enough myself, but why risk the boredom?

"No. I want more than just that. I want to have cute little babies with accents with him.", Alfred sighed, finishing up the last of it with flourish.

"You had better be talking aboot adoption hoser. You are so not dabbling in human experimentation again.", I warned him with a hard glare.

"C'mon Mattie, you like maple syrup…"

"Al, I can't ever have a tan thanks to you."

"And I saved you from skin cancer. You're welcome."

"Maple, I knew I should have just stayed home.", I sighed, flopping forward onto the table. I was poked in the cheek with an eraser tip repeatedly.

"You know Canada is super boring and you love it when I come rescue from its bagged milk clutches.", Alfred chuckled as he leaned up against me heavily. I took the opportunity to tickle him under his arms in a very certain spot to make him get off of me, one of the many advantages of being a twin and knowing weak points.

"Canada is beautiful and perfect and if you don't shape up, I'll make you sing its anthem…..the entire thing…in French…..again.", I grinned evilly, Alfred paling a bit under the prospect of it.

"Damn dude, I got it. Canada, land of beaver and poutine, awesome place.", Alfred said quickly.

"And don't you forget it.", I nodded, "Now, when Arthur gets here stay on topic. This is a tutoring session. Ease yourself in and don't rush him. Remember to compliment him on something but don't get creepy about it. Most of all, stay focused Al. You tend to fall into odd tangents easily that no one else can follow."

"I am a leaf in the wind.", Alfred mantraed, taking some deep breathes.

"And stop quoting science fiction. You will be your own worst cockblock.", I sighed, face palming at him in my own growing distress. He was like a clay pot I had only half baked in the oven. I feared for my creation and his future possibilities of nookie…

…..and felt a disturbance in the force….

I turned quickly around to glare at the trio that had been creeping up on us the entire time. "Is there something we can do for you gentleman?", I asked coldly. Francis smirked back at me before prancing off to go hit on some girl from Seychelles. Antonio got distracted by something bright and shiny far off in the distance. It turned out to be a petite angry Italian. Gilbert stayed though to meet my look solidly with his own.

"Not a thing Birdie. Just enjoying the view is all.", the albino smirked. Alfred was starting to have an air of pissed mist around him, so I quickly moved to defuse the situation.

"Al, get moving or you are going to be late.", I reminded, giving my twin a little shove of encouragement toward the far other side of the room. He left glaring at the Prussian who flipped him the bird for his efforts. I rolled my eyes at them both, collecting all my papers up neatly to leave.

"You know…it against the rules to have someone else do your homework. Some may even call that cheating.", Gilbert mused aloud overly dramatic, picking up one of the sheets to study it. I flipped him a pair for his theatrics.

"Look at all the fuck I give, hoser.", I said in sincere tones, taking the paper from him. He gave me a surprised look in return.

"I could go to my grandfather about it or even the Headmaster.", Gilbert managed out, grasping for some sort of advantage.

"Then why don't you be the sweet little delinquent you are and go do that? Cause I think you will find it is your word against mine. I also think that they will find that all this handwriting is a perfect match to my own and that I can test out of any grade here with flying colors.", I laughed, "And even failing that, I'm sure that Rome would love to have some pillars to go with the gallery, garden, and some rather garish fountains that my brother and I have already so graciously donated to this school."

Gilbert stared at me in surprise, suddenly looked a little unsure of himself. He tried staring me down, but it lacked potency as it eventually wilted into a careful study of his loafers.

"You know you could have just asked me out. I might have said yes.", I sighed, growing tired of this game. I was cheating by peeking over my glasses at him, but the swirl of colors around him was so pretty, a huge emotional rainbow.

"Scheiße …..I wasn't…..ah….I was….", Gilbert scrambled to cover up his very blatant life fail.

"Yeah you were. You are going to try and blackmail me with the whole homework thing into a date or something. It's actually pretty cliché but I do love the classics.", I shrugged, slinging my messenger bag over my shoulder as I turned to leave. A pale hand on my sleeve made me pause to look back into scarlet eyes set in an oddly serious face.

"So…would you have said 'Ja'?", Gilbert asked in his rough accent, the guttural German making little inside parts of me tingle and melt a little bit. So sue me, I have an accent fetish. I personally think Al's tendency for it is worse than mine.

"No."

I watched his hopeful expression fall and go blank as he withdrew awkwardly from me. "I would have said 'Oui'.", I teased, flashing him a flirty smile in the face of his surprise. I laughed as I walked off, the self proclaimed Prussian catching up with me easily enough.

"So, will you?", Gilbert asked, moving to block my way, his garnet eyes glittering.

"Will I what?", I asked feigning innocence. I got a rude face for my efforts.

"Go out with me!", Gilbert ordered more than asked.

"Peut-être". I said with a smile.

"What the hell does that mean?", Gilbert groaned.

"When you figure it out, come find me.", I chuckled, leaving a miffed Prussian behind to go look for his French best friend. I stopped myself in time to keep from being run over by a very angry Englishman who looked like he was on a mission from god as he strode out of the study hall, swearing fluidly under his breathe about 'daft gits' and 'bloody Americans'. Upon recognizing Arthur and his retreating backside, I turned back to catch Al's eye easily enough, sending him a questioning look. My twin gave me two thumbs up and a wide shit eating grin.

Oh Maple...


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur's POV

I woke up early.

Every bloody morning, whether I had school or not, whether I wanted to or not.

The alternatives were so much worse.

That was my life.

I hated waking up.

I kept still, listening to the room for any movement, daring to crack an eye to peek secretly through thick lashes. The chair that I had wedged underneath the doorknob was still there where I had put it last night. I don't like taking my chances or having my sleep disturbed without some sort of warning.

I turned off my alarm before it can make its needless attempts to wake me and got up to let Jeeves in. He was, as always, immaculate in full coat and tails, posed elegantly with a full tea service in hand. The old butler had originally worked for my dearly departed mother and he was the closest thing I had to family in most senses of the word.

"Sleep well Master Kirkland?", Jeeves asked, alarmingly awake despite the ungodly early hour and dare I even say it, looking a bit chirper even.

"Quite. Where are they?", I always gave the same answer and asked the same question.

"Your father is still enjoying his evening and has yet to return, and your brothers are in their respective bedrooms or just about, sleeping theirs off.", Jeeves intoned, finishing with my tea preparations to start laying out my uniform.

"Brilliant lot.", I sighed though I sorely wished I could be one of them. I would love to sink into a blissful state of alcoholic oblivion. That is what got me into this mess though and 3000 miles away from my beloved England.

"What is the weather going to be like today?", I asked as I finished the last touches on my immaculate uniform, perfectly laundered and pressed, loafers polished to a dull shine.

"Bright and sunny, sir. Not a cloud in the sky.", Jeeves said like a death sentence to me.

"So hot and sticky.", I corrected, a touch bitterly. What I wouldn't give for a gorgeous cloud cover or a drop of rain.

"Then will you be taking the car today again, sir?", Jeeves asked, the epitome of modern servitude.

"No. I'll walk.", I answered, surprising the both of us I think. Jeeves actually seemed to consider blinking for a moment.

"I….um…..would like the exercise. It will wake me up." I hastily said, recovering further by drinking the rest of my tea.

"Indeed, sir.", Jeeves answered, a bit miffed. I could tell even if other could not. It was just a very subtle change in the air about him. I grimaced to myself on why I wanted to walk and the image of a certain American flashed through my mind unbidden. If I was driven, I would be taken directly to the school's front entrance. If I walked, I would have to go through the dormitories that circled the campus. My chances of bumping into Alfred before class was greater if I did the latter.

I sighed at myself, finishing off the last dregs of my tea. It was a silly notion of course. The American was loud, oblivious, and ridiculously stupid. Associating with him would be detrimental to my standing at the World Academy, especially as class president and an honor student. I personally could not even fathom how he had gotten admitted in the first place with the academy's high academic standards. Alfred slept through all of his class or doodled in his notebooks, happily argued with teachers when he was awake or paying the least bit of attention to the material presented, and wore that silly brown jacket wherever he went even though it blatantly broke the dress code. He constantly came up with absurd ideas about space travel and other impossible things and had the attention span of a cocker spaniel puppy on crack.

And yet…

He liked me…wanted to be my friend….

Which just proved how daft he was. We were clearly on opposite ends of so many scales-social, financial(I assumed he was here on a scholarship), mental…..

…..He was so kind to me it hurt….

I set my tea cup down harder that I meant to with that sudden thought, chipping the base of the delicate glazed porcelain. I glared at it as if the cup was at fault instead of the actual person on my mind that I was so desperately trying not to think about.

I gave my appearance the once over in the mirror before grabbing my book bag. My short hair was in need of a haircut again, the fringe hanging over my forehead. It was messy as usual, my perpetual style or lack there of. I didn't dare grow it out. My father would despise me more if I did, if that were even possible. For all my sins, I looked like my mother. With fair hair, green eyes, and the same delicate facial features, I could have been her twin at this age. I don't know if my father hated me because I survived her or that I reminded him constantly of what he lost, the only woman he had ever deigned to marry.

I had grown out my hair once when I was young. Not intentionally mind you. It was more of a case of neglect on everyone's part. My nanny was too scared to bring up anything regarding me with my father, so my hair ended up getting quite long, the girl the nervous, useless sort. Upon finally noticing it, my father flew into a horrible rage, chasing after me to cut it.

My mother had had long hair.

I hid from him in our estate's garden until he gave up exhausted. My lifelong French nemesis and perpetual tormentor, Francis, had been visiting at the time. After finding me up in a tree and coaxing me down, he cut my hair very short with more than a few snotty comments about it. It was one of the nicest things he has ever done for me.

As I navigated down long dark hallways, I failed to notice my surroundings, thinking or trying to think too hard about the coming day and who it might hold for me.

"What have ye got to be smiling' aboot, ya idjit?"

I froze, quickly placing my oldest brother to my immediate left. How had I missed him? Connor leaned up against the foyer's entrance, smoking a cigarette. His darker green eyes, rimmed with red and bloodshot from drinking, bored into me as I processed his question. I hadn't realized I had been.

I shrugged noncommittally, leaving him without a word as I tried to flee while trying to make it look like I wasn't. I almost made it to the door before Connor slammed me up against the wall painfully, pinning me to it. I was by no means a weakling but Connor was built taller and stronger than I, something he reminded me of frequently.

"I asked ye a questin', baern.", Connor growled into my ear. I could smell the scents of burned tobacco, last night's liqueur, and this morning's vomit on his breath.

"Nothing.", I mumbled dully, putting as much deadness into my answer as I could.

"That's right….an' don't ye forget it…ever.", Connor smirked, letting me go to drop onto the floor heavily. I scrambled up toward the door to the sounds of his scoffing laughter, leaving him and bits of my pride behind. He must have been tired or still drunk from last night. I had gotten off light today.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!", I berated myself as I got out onto the street. My brothers was usually passed out by this time at dawn, hence why I got up at such an unforgivable hour….but not always. I had to remember that.

After my last truancy when my father had informed me I was going across the pond to straighten up, a part of me had been thrilled until he told me that the whole family was going as well. My four stepbrothers had not wanted to come here, letting me know how much they disapproved every opportunity they could. You think they would have been grateful, the tossers. They had practically slept their way through all the women in the UK, taking after our dear father in that aspect at least.

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I arrived soon enough to the campus with all the adrenaline running in my system. The mansion was actually not that far from it to begin with, but fear and anger will certainly put a pep in your step. I wondered vaguely if Alfred would even be up at this hour. It didn't seem likely…

"Hey Artie!"

…..but the damn American seemed to love proving me wrong. I cringed at the horrible nickname the idiotic blonde had bestowed upon me for whatever reason. At the same time though, my heart bounced madly about in my chest at the mere sound of his overly loud voice. I turned to see him, grinning like the happy fool he was….

…at me.

Alfred F. Jones was a tall lad, taller that me even though I was a year older than him. He had a tan that made his skin give off a warm golden color and made his sunshine wheat hair stand out all the more against it. His teeth were the atypical straight white perfection I had come to expect from Americans, but his eyes…I swear his eyes seemed to glow sometimes. They were so vibrantly blue, like a mid summer's day sky shimmering in the heat. He was wearing his jacket of course. I don't think I have ever seen him once without it. Alfred carried two take away cups with steam spouting out of their slotted tops with a rather large paper bag jammed under his arm.

"Don't call me that ridiculous name and be quiet! People are still trying to sleep.", I snapped as he came bounding up to me. Instead of wilting under my harsh glare like most people did, he seemed to brighten, if that were even possible, looking positively thrilled to be in my presence. It was the strangest sensation, someone wanting to me near me of their own volition. Alfred presented me with one of the take away cups.

"I got you tea! And scones!", Alfred practically sang, ignoring my command for silence in favor of shoving the cup into my hands and grabbing my arm to drag me to a nearby table.

"How many scones did you get?", I asked confused, eyeing the rather larger bag warily. I hadn't realized that McDonalds even made scones. I cringed at the very idea of it. Alfred dove into his bag to produce a much smaller Starbuck's bag, revealing a large triangle shaped piece of pastry, shiny with glaze from its depths.

"That is not a scone.", I informed him flatly, accepting the tea a bit more graciously. Thankfully the barista had had the foresight to include sugar packets and cream with the drink. I would have preferred milk but the gesture was very nice and appreciated. I was not going to ever turn down a cup of Earl Grey based on dairy.

"Oh…well that is what I was given when I asked for one.", Alfred deflated a bit, "If you don't like it, I got plenty of other stuff."

It was true. It looked like the American had gotten double of every available breakfast item on the menu. I chose a egg and cheese sandwich out of the mess to pick at instead of the imposter scone that looked big enough you could brain someone with it. I felt momentarily bad for not accepting it since Alfred had gone out of his way to look for it. My worries were unfounded though, the scone decimated by the American who went on to a small mountain of hash browns and other fried delights. It was sickening to watch the amount of food he ate, talking the whole time he did of course.

"That can't be good for you." , I said, interrupting the stream of gibberish Alfred was spouting. Something about robots I think.

"Huh?", was the intelligent reply.

"All of that rubbish. You are probably fat underneath all those layers you insist on wearing.", I gestured at the leather jacket over his school uniform.

"Am not!", Alfred pouted childishly, his bottom lip already poking out at me.

"You are too. I'll prove it.", I sighed, leaning over to grab a love handle through the gap in his jacket. He hadn't even bothered to dress himself properly, his vest wide open and his dress shirt untucked and only partially buttoned. I found this out because I touched hard muscle and a lot of hot skin. I froze in surprise, not just at the feel of coiled strength underneath my fingertips but also at the sensation of it. Alfred's skin was incredibly smooth, baby soft, and deliciously warm. Not sweaty hot from too many clothes but just naturally hot. My hand fanned out wide unconsciously, seeking out more of it as I felt ridges of well formed, defined abs react to my lingering touch. I would have continued to map out those deep cuts when I suddenly realized what I was actually doing and that Alfred had stopped moving, talking, and even breathing.

I looked up, not wanting to, to see a surprised look at his face, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open uselessly. I felt my face catch fire under his azure gaze, all the way up to my ears and neck. I jumped back like a spastic cat hitting water and with all the grace of one as well, almost falling off of the bench in my escape.

"I'm sorry! I didn't….", I babbled, my traitorous fingers still tingling pleasantly from the contact. I ignored it all in favor of my growing panic inside. I had just acted inappropriately, with no acceptable excuse for it sprigging to mind to save myself. Would he be repulsed?

I risked a glance at him, his tanned cheeks a dusky shade of red from his blush no where as near stark as my own bright crimson shading.

It was all over. He wouldn't want to be my friend anymore. I had just proved I was as perverted as that damn frog and…..

And then Alfred exploded.

I eeped as I was suddenly scooped up fully into a pair of strong arms to be held bridal style and bear hugged within an inch of my life.

"You are so cute!", Alfred squealed(yes, squealed. Like a little girl seeing a pony) Needless to say, I was thrown for a loop.

"What?!", I managed to squawk before air intake became an issue again for me. I slapped and pushed at Alfred's arms futilely. The American could have been made of steel for all of my efforts. It certainly felt like he was. Only when I started to turn a bit blue in the face he let me down reluctantly, but still grinned down at me fondly as my breathing resumed to normal, even going so far as to kiss me quickly on the top of my head. Despite the indignation of having been just treated like a blushing bride, I could have practically died of relief right then and there. I had forgotten how touchy feely Americans were, Alfred thankfully a bit more so than his countrymen it seemed. He plopped down back beside me as if nothing had happened, shoving more of that atrocious food into his face again.

"See! I'm not fat.", Alfred stated confidently, washing all of it down with his large coffee.

"It's a wonder you are not.", I said dryly, straightening out my uniform, the material all rumpled from the American's impromptu affections. I blushed again, remembering the warmth of it, the press of flesh to my own.

"I'm a growing boy!", Alfred laughed, completely oblivious to my embarrassing awkwardness, something I was suddenly very grateful for.

"How much more growing do you plan on doing?", I sniffed, helping him collect up all the wrappers to shove into the bag.

"Don't be jealous of my sweet six pack, dude.", Alfred grinned, looking way too pleased with himself.

"I'm not jealous, you git. It was just unexpected is all considering your horrendous diet.", I grumbled. Though I wasn't the powerhouse that Alfred seemed to be, football, horseback riding, and fencing as well as many other physical activities had given me a lean athletic body of my own. I just chose not to flaunt it.

"Are you sure you don't want one of these?", Alfred asked, waving another brick of pastry dressed up as scone at me. Apparently there had been more than one in the bag, "It's pomegranate."

"Pomegranate?! Are you mental?", I sputtered, scowling, "For the last time, that is not a scone."

"Whatever. That's what they are selling them as.", Alfred shrugged, already nomming on the baked good.

"Just because it has been tarted up as one, doesn't mean it is.", I argued, glaring at the last bits of the offensive pretender as Alfred popped it into his mouth, "If you want a proper scone, I can just make you some today."

I regretted the offer as soon as it left my lips, damn my English pride. To make matters worse, Alfred lit up like I just told him that Christmas and his birthday had both come early.

"Really!? I can't wait!", Alfred cheered, a fake smile pasted on my face as my gut sank heavily downward.

My cooking teacher was not going to be pleased with me.

Not. One. Bit.

Bloody Hell.


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur's POV

"Absolutely not."

Mrs. Sultana loomed over me with a dark air of menace about her in almost visible shades of thick purple, the rest of my request dying on my lips like ash.

"I thought we had come to a mutual understanding Mr. Kirkland.", the large angry woman growled, glaring at me over her horn rimmed glasses as she crossed her beefy arms in iron determination. I cringed despite my resolve to make scones for Alfred. She had her reasons, some of them actually quite merited. Three ovens, innumerable pots and pans, and a rather expensive mixer had been just some of the casualties in my attempts at the genre.

"We did…..we do…we….um.…", I stammered, grasping for some sort of leverage to win this standoff. After my extreme and obvious failing to make anything even considered to be vaguely edible, it was decided at I would be only allowed to remain in the cooking club and receive a passing grade as long as I sat back and quietly watched with some helping out with clean up in the end. It had been going swimmingly thus far until now. Mrs. Sultana had even gotten to the point where she could forgive me about the whole hair burning incident that had forced her wear a wig for most of the semester. It really was coming in quite evenly now that all the scabbing had fully healed.

"I have got a new deal for you.", I rallied valiantly. I had promised to make scones for Alfred and come hell or high water, I was going to do just that.

"Go on.", Mrs. Sultana scowled deeply, unsure but proving she was a true betting woman.

"Let me make the scones, under your direct supervision of course. I have a fr…..** Francis suddenly looked way too interested in this conversation**….'cough' an acquaintance coming by to try them. If he doesn't like them, I will drop this club entirely and never darken your doorstep again.", I stated firmly. Mrs. Sultana's eyes lit up with confidence and assured victory before dropping back into a intense look of suspicion.

"He has working taste buds? Total sense of smell?", she asked suspiciously, looking about the class for confirmation.

"Oui, though you could not judge from what he choosez to eat.", Francis sighed overly dramatic. I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering what his game was. The frog didn't not usually volunteer to help me out unless he had an agenda. He blew a kiss at me, noticing my look.

"It's a deal Mr. Kirkland, but I got to ask. Is he crazy or just stupid?", Mrs. Sultana agreed hesitantly, even going so far as to shake my hand on it.

"A little bit of both, I am zinking.", Francis chuckled.

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"That's it then. I will just pack it in.", I grimaced into my own hands, the scones still smoldering on their blackened tray. The round pastries looked similar to lava rocks, uncooked batter seeping out from the cracks in their middle to bubble and spit at its stunned onlookers. Mrs. Sultana was just happy no one had been injured in the process though there had been several close calls. She somehow managed to come off as smug and sympathetic all at the same time as she awkwardly patted my shoulder, murmuring sympathies. I had really tried this time. Francis's snickering in the background was not helping with my depression and immanent failure.

I really did love cooking. It has been a part of my earliest childhood, the old estate's kitchen my only respite from my family and the rest of the world. I discovered this warm bread scented sanctuary on a day I was running from my brothers who had taken to throwing rocks and other debris at me upon sight at the time. Sniffling and a little battered, bruised, and bleeding, I sought refuge in the large kitchen nestled in its on own deep nook, the kitchen in one of the oldest parts of the manor.

It was made up of worn smooth wood, dark with age and soot, ancient stone floors faded to a cream color by centuries of ground in flour and boot heels, and oddly shaped windows filled with thick glass that let in fairy light, all wistful and lingering. Scents of long dead biscuits and other delights lingered in the oven baked air and it was constantly filled with the low chatter of cooks, servants, and the odd merchant who stopped by to sell his wares and services.

The head cook had been a quiet but stern woman who went by the name of Hattie who could make a feast from practically nothing and have the chicken thank her for cooking it. She was more like a mother to me than any of the many nannies I had had. Hattie had found me that day, hiding behind the flour looking worse for wear. She cleaned me up with barely a word, but with a gentle hand. Most importantly though she gave me a safe place by her floury side, treating me like one of her own. My brothers never dared to come down there. The one time that they did, Hattie made quick work of them all with a rather large wooden spoon and some sharp ear pinching, having already raised several boys of her own.

I missed her dearly. Unlike Jeeves though, Hattie had not come to America, unwilling to part with her home country in favor of taking her retirement. I don't blame her. I would not have left England either given the choice.

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To make matters worse, the door swung open as if on cue to reveal an excited American.

"The hero has arrived! Where are the scones?", Alfred happily announced himself, striking that odd action pose he insisted on doing. I didn't even have the heart to berate his ridiculous opening. I gestured weakly to my misadventures in baking. He studied them intently for a moment.

"You weren't kidding. Those look nothing like the ones from this morning.", Alfred said in his overly exuberant tones in complete awe of them. Francis started to snicker quite loudly. I didn't look up at Alfred, still cradling my head, waiting for him to start teasing me like everyone else did about my inadequacies.

"Are they supposed to do that?", Alfred asked curiously, as one of the scones decided to secrete all of it uncooked middle at once, giving off a high pitched death rattle of steam. I don't even know what could have happened this time. I swear the oven was set at 350, not 530, that I used baking powder instead of cream of tartar, and no eggshells had gotten into the batter. Francis, being the total ass that he was, fell over laughing.

"Is he having a seizure or something?", Alfred asked worriedly as Francis curled up under the table in a giggling fit.

"No. Please ignore him. He is just being French.", I groaned, aiming a half hearted kick at the frog. A collective gasp made me look up.

To all our shock and some people's obvious dismay, Alfred was eating the one of scones. Mrs. Sultana had the foresight to quickly retrieve a bucket, something that had become vital to the club upon my admission.

Alfred finished it with an audible crunch, working a wayward piece of it out of his gum line with his tongue. He seemed to consider the taste of the scone for a long(and breathless on my part) moment, staring off into nothing. Everyone watched him as if he might exploded at any moment, on edge and tense. The class jumped as Alfred just shrugged, reaching for another one. Mrs. Sultana stopped him by slapping her hand to his head.

"You don't seem to have a fever…..Do you remember your name? What country are you from? How many fingers am I holding up?", she asked, highly concerned, looking at him intently for any signs of possible and sudden demise or projectile vomiting. Both were very bad and a nuisance to clean up afterward.

"Um…My name is Alfred, I am from here, and you're not holding up any fingers.", Alfred answered warily, trying to extricate himself from the nervous teacher's grasp, "This is cooking club right? I didn't wander into health class, did I?"

"Oh my god, he's confused and disorientated.", Mrs. Sultana gasped, gripping Alfred to her ample bosom in her panic. I rolled my eyes, waving her off as I extracted a rather bewildered American from her depths.

"No, no, no. Don't be daft. He's always like that.", I snapped, making Alfred sit down, happily doing so to reach for more of the scones. He groaned when the blackened tray was whisked out of his reach by a very smug looking Frenchman.

"Before you dezided, you must try zis. Variety iz ze spice of life, oui?", Francis smirked, producing a tray of perfectly baked scones, beautifully arranged on a plate, practically oozing with clotted cream and strawberry jam from their fluffy middles.

So that was Francis's game all along. Shame me further in front of all my peers and even worse, in front of Alfred. The class moaned in wanton ecstasy from the scent wafting off of the flawlessness that was Francis's baking. Bloody Hell, even I wanted one and I was the one being demoralized.

"I have no idea what you just said, but if you are offering me food then sure.", Alfred grinned, nomming messily into the offered baked goods. Francis's smile become strained along the edges upon witnessing the American's messy eating habits, finger licking and lip smacking included. Alfred sighed loudly in obvious contentment upon his finish.

"Well…..what do you zink?", Francis asked, shooting me a victorious look. Alfred titled his head to the side as if in deep thought.

"I like yours….", Alfred said. I felt my shoulders slump in defeat, not surprised in the slightest.

"But I also liked Arthur's. Can I have those back now?", he finished, taking the pitted tray from Francis's lifeless fingers. The Frenchman stared back at him like he was a some sort of monster.

"Y-you liked them!? But they are merde! Are you inzane?! You not say my cooking iz on the same level as hiz!", Francis raged. Alfred placidly chewed another gravelly piece of gooey soot, considering the Frenchman's words.

"Well, like you said variety and spice or something. I like it. It's different.", Alfred shrugged. Francis looked like he was mad enough to have kittens. Even if I got kicked out of the club right now, it would be totally worth it for the expression on Francis's face at this very moment.

"Anyway…Can I ask you something?", Alfred said to me, acting oddly shy. I would have given him the moon if he asked for it, I was riding so high. I managed to nod at him, not trusting myself or my voice yet.

"Could you make me something again? I really liked your scones.",

You could have heard a pin drop, it was so silent….

….or a teacher drop. Mrs. Sultana fainted, the girls rushing over to fan her.

"Are they alright?", Alfred asked worriedly, watching Francis twitch in barely suppressed rage and the teacher being brought round again. I didn't answer, too busy having my glorious moment. Confused by us all, Alfred shrugged, going back to the scones to start making notes in a journal he produced from somewhere even going so far as to take samples of still bubbling scones. I found it odd but ignored it, basking in my victory as I gloated over the depressed snail sucker.

After we had left Francis and Mrs. Sultana crying on each other's respective shoulders, Alfred and I made our way to his dorm room. Alfred refused to go to the study hall for our lessons saying it was too boring(i.e. he couldn't speak in his normal loud tones) and we certainly were not going to my residence, so that left his campus abode. Though I didn't show it, I was actually quite excited about the prospect of actually being in one. It had never been an option for me, my father deciding I was incapable of living in one by myself or with a roommate that might have negative influences me.

For lack of a better explanation, Lord Kirkland needed me. He may not love or even like me, but I was still valuable to him. I was his only true heir. That in itself turned out to be marketable. After graduation from this prestigious academy, I was to marry one of my father's business associate's daughter and work for the man's successful company. It was the equivalent of a modern day arranged marriage with guaranteed money, power, and prestige all rolled into one. It insured that my father could keep spending money like water, the line of Kirkland would continue, and some merchant's daughter got the prestige of becoming a Lady. I felt sorry for the poor girl, even though I had never met her. She had no idea what she was getting herself into.

After my father had told me that my life was planned, I had rebelled. I ran away to hide myself in the dark heart of London, disguised in plain sight in ragged leather, dirty tshirts, tattoos, and piercings. I joined a band just so that I could have somewhere safe to sleep and other people to watch my back. I had actually done quite well at taking care of myself and others, the band on the verge of getting signed by a reputable label. If the bobbies hadn't pick me up after a particularly hectic bar fight, I would probably still be there, singing and playing my taped up guitar to my heart's content.

My father and I had had it out afterward. In the end, I lost. Lord Kirkland wanted a life for the one he had lost, and mine was apparently forfeit. I was bound to stay through honor and a lot of guilt, always a true gentleman at my core as I had been raised to be.

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Upon arriving to our destination, Alfred opened the door to his room and I ended up staring, my book bag sliding off of my unresisting shoulder to hit the floor. The space before me was simply amazing. At some point Alfred had mentioned he shared the dorm with his brother, something I hadn't bothered to remembered having never seen the chap on campus(I learned later on that I had at least two classes with him). It was obvious that Alfred shared this place though, the different halves of the room being worlds apart.

The brothers had a top room dorm, the ceiling of which were vaulted with high windows, letting in lots of natural light. Alfred's brother had used this to his full advantage. A mural of a forest wrapped itself around one half of the room, in stunning detail, working with the light and all its angles. Spring trees in shades of soft pink stood sentinel at the front door, delicate petals drifting down in a held wind. The grove moved toward the kitchen in vibrant shades of summer, glowing with vital health in translucent greens. Autumn practically erupted around the actual bedroom area, a frozen woodland fire in reds, oranges, and yellows, the falling maple leaves making intricate patterns in their staged dance of descent. Bare boned winter trees tangled with them gradually, dark in their black bark which was highlighted further by their snow fur coats. The forest trailed off in demise as it got to Alfred's side of the room, the artist obviously making a joke or making a point of some kind to its roommate and viewer.

Alfred's half of the room glowed blue, soft light reflecting off of multiple metal surfaces. The walls were lined with clear boards braced in the walls on metal brackets that looked like they moved. The boards themselves were filled from top to bottom with symbols, writing, and what I thought were numbers.

A large desk took up an entire corner of its own, its surface unseen through all of the screens, wires, and keyboards on it. A large laptop sat in the middle of it all, the hardware king reigning over this nest of technology. It was black and looked oddly bulky. My own was the latest model, feather light and slim. This looked like the Hummer of its kind, its outer case dented and scarred. The multiple glowing screens are continually showing figures and sites it seemed at random, occasionally spitting something out from a printer.

Next to the computer desk was a miniature work shop of sorts, tools lying out hap hazardously and blueprints pinned up so thickly they overlapped with little metal beings moving on their own noisy accord over them. The bed on his side looked like it had been put in as an afterthought, the messy pile of bedding shoved in the only other available corner. I sat down on it gingerly, half expecting something to come crawling out of it.

"Well…this is certainly different.", I said, trying to be polite. Alfred shrugged, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, Mattie can't stand white walls. Something about feeling the pull of the void. Anyway, he went nuts the first week he was here. He's finally calmed down a bit.", Alfred explained, studying his brother's work with a jaded eye.

"Your brother did this?! In a week?!", I gasped, taking in the mural once again. It had been done by a master, every detail immaculate yet effortlessly vibrant. Now that I was actually looking at it as a whole, I was able to notice other details of the room. Alfred's brother, this Mattie, was just as messy though with different materials. While on Alfred's side you would have to worry about being electrocuted, on Mattie's side you might possibly lose a foot or at least a toe. Chisels, maces, paint knives, exacto blades, and other amazingly sharp tools belonging to the art profession were laid out wherever their owner happened to drop them. You could tell by the paint splatters.

While the wall was a vision, the floor was a wasteland of puddles in various hues of dried coloring, stained paint containers, chipped off pieces of marble, and empty maple syrup bottles. Mattie's bed was shoved into its corner as well, though his bedding was bright red, not blue and even that was a guess, the whole thing was covered in unfolded clothing. I looked around in dismay at it all, Alfred's bed seeming to be the safest place to sit at the moment.

"It's alright. I like the stuff he did in Vancouver much better.", Alfred said offhandedly, practically throwing himself onto the bed to send me airborne, bouncing on it. It wasn't a waterbed, lacking the telltale signs of sloshing water, but it seemed to move like one. I wondered what it was made of. It was like laying on a cloud. I tried to right myself only to find my body pulled over to be sat down between the American's long legs, my back to his chest, his long arms coming around me as his head rested on my shoulder.

"W-what are you doing?", I stammered, feeling myself blush again, damn my pale skin. I jumped as a book was placed into my lap.

"Studying science.", Alfred said as if it was the most obvious thing the world, "This makes it easier for both of us to see the book."

"Ah yes, of course…science.", I muttered, trying not to( and failing miserably) react to the American's very near presence. It was hard, his warmth all on my back, his breathe tickling my ear ever so slightly, his scent surrounding me. He smelled like leather, cedar, and musk, all inviting and comforting. It was impossible for me to concentrate, that much was clear soon enough.

"….so what do you think?", Alfred suddenly asked me, bringing me out my pleasant haze.

"About what? Anything in particular?", I asked, desperately racking my brain to gain the faintest idea of what he had been talking about. All it came up with was that Alfred smelled really nice. Bloody brilliant.

"You don't get any of it, do you?", Alfred said sadly, his tone suggesting it was not actually a question.

"Not a word.", I admitted, glaring at him already to see if he would make a comment. He moved to get up. I groaned inwardly at the movement. I just wanted to sit here like this and be held close. If science had to be in the mix then so be it. My wants were not answered though, the American moving to his glowing boards, which appeared to be touch screen capable, Alfred saving his work before clearing one of the boards entirely. He wrote a much simpler looking equation upon it, one that I even vaguely recognized.

"Do you know what this is?", Alfred asked hopefully, tapping the boards.

"No."

"But it's so obvious! It's the mass–energy equivalence formula! E = mc2? Energy and mass are equivalent and transmutable…Are you getting any of this? It's so easy!", Alfred huffed, blowing out his cheeks in irritation.

"Not to me, you git.", I glowered back, my cheeks pinking in embarrassment.

"How am I a 'git' in this scenario? Do you even know the theory of relativity?", Alfred challenged.

"That marrying your cousin is bad?", I managed to say in an overly serious voice. Alfred's face fell into a look of perplexed despair, like someone had told him Santa and the Easter Bunny wasn't really real all in one go.

"I'd kidding. It's a joke.", I chuckled, enjoying his long suffering look a little too much for my own good.

"Thank god. You really scared me there for a moment.", Alfred sighed, moving to his computers, to start tapping at them. I didn't have the heart to tell him I still didn't actually know what is was.

"What are you doing?", I asked, after a few minutes of continuous typing on his part, his eyes glued to the screens, seemingly able to read all of the flowing symbols from the various glowing ports.

"Making you a study guide.", Alfred mumbled, completely involved with his work.

"What, for the next test? Thank you. That would be very helpful…"

"No, for the entire semester. The teacher's an idiot. I have already figured out his syllabus and where he is going with it. The guy is a joke. He is not even touching on the finer points of frame dragging.", Alfred rambled, not really paying any attention to what he was saying. I studied him openly, struck at how intelligent he actual was.

"Alfred…"

"Yeah?"

"It's a Physics 1 class."

"Yeah?"

"Why are you in it? You are obviously way ahead of the curriculum."

I watched as Alfred froze, very similar to the time I had asked him about the bookstore in study hall.

"Easy A.", Alfred grinned widely at me, before turning back to his computer. I confirmed with myself right then and there that Alfred was a terrible liar and this was the second time he had done so with me. I settled back on his bed, wondering to myself why he would lie about things so insignificant.

I wasn't too happy he knew about the old bookstore in Soho. It was my last safe haven within this city. Students didn't go there and my family couldn't fault me for making it a destination. The owner of the bookstore actually had some rare printings in his collection. It was all just a matter of being able to find them. Alfred's appearance there had been disconcerting to say none the least. I had been enjoying a particularly lovely sonnet when old survival instincts had made me look up into blue eyes. I will never forget the look on his face. It had been intense, his orbs wide, his jaw set, his whole body tense. It had been a look of hunger….of want…of things best left unsaid.

I do not know why he wanted me, or for what reason and for the life of me, I could not figure it out.

He didn't seem to want or need money. My earlier notions of him being here on a scholorship were obviously wrong. The computerized dry erase boards that lined his walls alone had to fall in the thousands were proof enough of this.

If he wanted influence or power, there were plenty of others who were more sociable than I at the academy. Alfred was certainly handsome enough to get their attentions. I wasn't even a prince or that special. I was the son of a slut lord with loose morals and bound to an impending marriage. My course was sorely set.

I had nothing to offer this man and yet he still chased me.

I got far too comfortably in his bed, becoming so lost in my own thoughts and worries that I wandered inadvertently into sleep. I awoke with a start, realizing immediately I was in someone's lap, my chest cuddled to warm chest. I looked up blurrily at Alfred who appeared to be reading a leather-bound book. I recognize it as my own to my immediate horror. I punched him in the gut while kneeing him in the vital regions to give him a general idea about how I felt about this, quickly retrieving the novel from his hands.

"What the hell Iggy?", Alfred gasped, curling up into the fetal position as I put some distance between us.

"You had no right. This is my property.", I hissed vehemently through clenched teeth, clutching my journal to my chest, feeling violated. I didn't dare leave it at home, the tome far to precious to me. Connor, I am sure, would take a particular delight in burning it. It was just a small collection of drawings and short stories about creatures of fantasy and fairies, having no value to anyone else. It was silly and childish but it was mine. I sat glaring at him, the oafish American somehow managing to sit up despite his pain to look at me.

"I'm really sorry. You fell asleep and it had fallen out of your book bag. I didn't think is was that important.", Alfred gasped, his bright eyes leaking tears. From pain or actual regret, I didn't know but it softened my outlook on him. Alfred was not malicious or at least as far as I could tell. He just read it because it was there not because he was looking to hurt or shame me.

"Fine. I'll forgive you…..just don't ever do it again.", I murmured, still protecting the book with my own body.

"It was very good and that means a lot coming from me. I'm not into the whole mumbo jumbo magic scene.", Alfred grimaced as he shifted gingerly.

"It is not fake! Magic is real!", I snapped, glaring fresh acid at him. To my surprise he grinned, putting his hands up in mock defeat.

"That's so cute you believe in that crap.", he cooed, his smile wide and teasing.

"I'll have you know these are quite detailed and accurate accounts based on my own personal experiences.", I stated firmly, used to this argument. No one believed me about the supernatural. It was simply my burden to bear.

"Wait a minute…You wrote those stories? And drew all those cute little pictures?", Alfred asked in surprise. I curled up tighter around my journal, choosing to study the coverlet instead of meeting his true blue gaze.

"Yes….", I whispered.

I was tackled back onto the bed, Alfred hugging me tightly. "Iggy that is amazing! Why don't you publish it when your finished?!", Alfred beamed. I let myself lay in those strong arms, dreaming for a few mere seconds of possibilities that would never happen to me. Reality is such a harsh mistress, her grip seeping back into my consciousness.

"It will never happen.", I sighed, pushing myself away from Alfred. It was getting late. I would have to return home soon. Tutoring was only an acceptable excuse for so long. Alfred looked oddly hurt and confused by my dismal tone.

"Why not?", he asked, all wide eyed. I smiled sadly at his particular innocence, personally struck by his blindness. He simply didn't see life for what it was.

"Because my path is already sorely set. Flights of fancy are not part of it.", I told him gently, putting my books away, a new glossy study guide among them. I got up to leave, Alfred still strangely silent. A hand on mine halted my departure. The smooth back of the limp appendage was brought to a warm tanned cheek to caress it with its heat.

My questioning gaze was met with stunning blue one. Alfred's glasses had been knocked off at some point in my assault, leaving them unguarded. They are a swirling pools of blue, points of light set in a face far too young for them. Those earthbound stars looked into me and out the other side of my soul, stirring it deeply within me.

"So make a new path."

I blinked, trying to look away from him and failing.

"I can't. It is not that easy."

"Nothing worth fighting for is." he said in a voice deeper that his usual light tones, one that shook me to my core, touching in places long forgotten or ignored entirely.

"I can't….I just…can't…..Don't you understand?", I faltered weakly. I had tried and failed once before already. Did I even have any right to in the first place?

"I'll fight for you. I'll be your hero.", Alfred promised. It was a promise. I knew it was as he sealed it with a kiss, his silken lips brushing the knuckles of my hand almost reverently. He looked up at me then, his soft flesh pressed to mine. If you could have only seen the way his eyes looked at me. The blue of his eyes when he said, the look of untainted emotion held in them. A look of …pure…

Love.

I did the first thing that came to my mind.

I ran.


	7. Chapter 7

Back to Alfred's POV

I was going fucking crazy!

How the hell did this happen?!

My sweet mini burger of love was avoiding me, dodging me every chance he got. He was practically hauling ass in and out of class in an effort to not talk to me at all. I had literally gone from best friend to rejected fucktard over night.

"It's your own fault, hoser. You came on too strong.", Matthew yawned, my totally unsympathetic confidant, unmoved in the slightest by my tale of woe(probably because he had already heard it like a billions times…that afternoon) as he continued to paint weird tribal symbols on the refrigerator(Hey, I don't question his methods-I like breathing).

"I know, but he just looked so sad!", I wailed into my pillow as I wallowed face down in the bed. The special memory foam I had engineered swished about comfortingly before settling into the perfect shape for my dejected body. I let myself be cradled by it since my brother was being such an insensitive cockbite about everything.

"Yes, good plan Al. Moping around with certainly fix all your problems with Arthur.", Matthew said dryly, walking over to push me with his foot since he had wet paint on his hands. I rolled over onto my back offering little resistance.

"He hates me now. It's hopeless.", I argued with the ceiling, ignoring my brother's sarcasm. I got sticky paint on my face for that slight. I glared at Matthew, who crossed his arms with a forceful look on his face. I sat up in attention, despite the dripping acrylic running off of my cheeks. Matthew didn't get serious often.

"Alfred F Jones(Oh shit-full name usage! Hide the hockey sticks!) You have been to the moon, hell you have even been to Mars…..", he started.

"And it was boring as hell. Worst road trip ever.", I interrupted. I was smacked with a sodden paintbrush. Lime green paint mingled with the canary yellow I was already sporting.

"Shut up hoser. I wasn't done.", Matthew growled, "You have rewritten the laws of physic not once, but twice. You have contacted alien life that now lives on your couch and mooches shamelessly off of you. You have revolutionized modern robotics, setting a new standard in the industry. You think of more brilliant and impossible things in one minute than some people do in a lifetime. You have done all this and more before the age of eighteen, so I got one question for you."

"…"

"…"

"Yeah well…..what is it?", I finally asked after a long moment of held silence with Matthew staring off into space(he did that from time to time-Schmeh, artists).

"Are you really going to let this stop you from being with the one you claim to truly love above all else?", Matthew stated, his hands finding my shoulders to grip them tightly.

I felt a strange feeling rise up from the very tips of my toes and work its way up the entire length of my body until it felt like it was leaking from the very tips of my hair follicles. I felt polarized, energy running through every vein in my body.

"HELL NO!", I yelled, jumping off of the bed to strike my ultimate pose of victory.

"That's right! You are going to get off your fat ass and go get your man!", Matthew yelled, fist pumping. I ignored the 'fat ass' comment too excited to be snarky back.

"Yes I am!", I shouted with determined resolution.

"Right now!", Matthew continued, pushing me toward the door and had been this entire time.

"Right now?", I blinked in confusion.

"Yes, right now cause I have someone coming up in aboot five minutes.", Matthew said, shoving me out the door.

"You don't mean….", I stared back at him incredulously.

"Yup. Good luck.", Matthew saluted before slamming the door in my face. Gross thoughts of Mattie getting laid aside, I hopped a plane to DC to go to my main lab there. I had a plan and it had everything there I needed to accomplish it. Even working constantly, it took me the better part of two week to finish it before I could return because it had to be absolutely perfect. When it was done though, it was possibly the greatest little bit of technology I had ever created. Hell, even I was impressed by it.

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I got back late in the afternoon midweek at JFK airport. Unable to contain myself any longer, I decided to go straight to Arthur's house, catching a cab there. I hadn't seen my angry teacup in so long, I was dying on the inside from withdrawal. Arthur's house turned out to be a mansion not too far from the World Academy. It was your atypical mansion, a little bit more dark and foreboding than others for some reason(don't think of ghosts, don't think of ghosts), but still pretty modern. My dog tags got me past the ambassador's security force easily enough. Technically, I did work for the government with an all access pass. It wasn't farfetched that I might have to go talk to the English ambassador or some shit like that. Politics were really not my thing, so I tried to avoid. The butler who answered the door was another matter entirely. He politely looked down his long nose at me, finding my being standing on his eloquent doormat to be unworthy with the arched rise of an immaculate eyebrow.

"Good evening.", he lied, "How may I help you? We do not take kindly to solicitors."

"Huh?", was my articulate reply. The butler somehow managed to roll his eyes at me without actually doing it. It was really impressive.

"If that is all….", he said dryly, closing the door. The man found it kinda hard to shut it though with my foot wedged in it.

"I'm not selling anything! I'm here to see Arthur! Arthur Kirkland!", I said quickly. Another raised eyebrow told me that that was highly unusually because it was accompanied with a dry sniff.

"Indeed. Unfortunately the young master is not receiving any visitors at the moment.", the butler informed me all the while continuing to try breaking my foot with the rather heavy door.

"Sweet shit! Quite crushing my foot, dude! I need that! He'll see me!", I gambled, wondering if Arthur was still mad at me, "I'm Alfred! Just tell him I'm here! Please!"

I nearly face planted completely when the butler chose to suddenly open the door wide for me.

"You are Alfred?", he asked hesitantly, an oddity for this obviously stoic man. He studied me openly with a jaded eye.

"Yes! I'm Al! That's me!", I popped up, waving needlessly at him(Don't judge me, I get nervous). He seemed to mull that little tidbit of information over for a bit.

"Come in, but do be quiet. You must not alert the other masters to your presence.", the butler beckoned softly, his manner carefully guarded but softened toward me now. I wondered why the sudden change in attitude but didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth as I crossed the threshold quickly before he could change his mind.

I was led down dark and gloomy hallways to a large fancy room which probably had a special name for it, but fuck if I knew it. You want a talking monkey, fine, I'll make you a talking monkey. Just don't ever ask me what fork is used for what or how many spoons should be on the table or if that ladle goes with that sauce, cause god forbid we use the grave ladle for hollandaise sauce. It's not my thing. I don't care. End of story.

…  
….Anyway…..where was I? Oh yeah….

This room(I found out later it was the Blue Room-How's that for some hoity toity shit?) was lit a little bit better than the hallways but not by much. It basically went from a "running for my life from ghosts' feeling to a 'I might be poisoned in the sitting room by Mr. Plum" type feeling. Yay.

"Please make yourself comfortable. I will go inform the young master that you are here.", the butler intoned. I looked at all the stiff backed chairs in the room with not a lazy boy in sight. Not fucking likely Jeeves.

As the butler turned to leave, my curiosity got the best of me. "Hey, what's your name?", I asked. I was really getting sick of calling the guy Jeeves and 'the butler' in my head.

"It is Jeeves, sir.", he said with a straight face.

"You're kidding.", I choked cause I was really trying not to laugh.

"I'm afraid not, sir. It will only be a moment. Please remember to stay quiet.", Jeeves bowed ever so slightly, signaling his departure. I wandered around the room, deciding against the chairs(Take that chairs!). I really tried to stay still but I may have bumped into some furniture….possibly broken something small and fragile, hiding its shattered corpse in a very convenient potted plant, and spilled some liquor while looking at a fancy decanter…..these things happen. Thankfully I had already put down the glass container because an unfamiliar voice made me jump.

"Well, what do we have here laddies?", a smoke roughened voice came from behind me. I turned to see a tall red headed man walk into the room like he owned it, a dark hand rolled cigarette clasped between his thin lips. He was followed closely by a much shorter man and a pair of twins. Connor Macrae, Murphy and Ryan Flanagan, and Hywel Llewelyn studied me like I was some new toy that they were planning to play with and they were decided whether or not to break it now or save it for later.

Connor Macrae was the tallest out of the four with richly colored hair the color of fresh blood. His eyes were a darker green that Arthur's. He was lean and lanky, walking in more like a fighter than a gentleman. His body language screamed anger, pent up rage, and frustration.

Murphy and Ryan Flanagan were the same height as each other and both were just a little shorter than the Scotsman. Their hair was more of a copper that red, Murphy's a little lighter that his twin's. Both of them were gingers though with pale skin and lots of freckles. Their eyes were more hazel than a true green, with a little brown in the mix. They both smiled continuously as if they knew something we all didn't and were really enjoying the joke.

Hywel Llewelyn had bright eyes the color of honey. They were his best feature, his hair really indecisive about whether wanted to be brown, red, or blonde and had ended up being either other than an odd ashy color. He was much shorter than the twins or Connor but was still taller that my Englishman. He looked more bored that anything.

Oh and they all the monster eyebrow thing going on, just in different forms. I decided it worked well for Arthur having now seen how it could all go so horribly wrong…..so wrong. Under their combined scrutiny, I kept myself relaxed, my smile wide and my eyes vacant. So these were Arthur's brothers. Well, just peachy.

"Nothin y'all. Just waitin." I said lightly with a careless shrug, pouring some Southern onto it for good measure. People tend to react to that accent in two ways. Either it relaxed them or it gave them a superiority complex. Connor fell into the latter.

"I suggest yer kindly piss offski and wait elsewhere. We weren't expectin' anyone.", Connor grinned, trying to loom over me. I was too tall for it though. I beamed back like I didn't have a care in the world when he realized it had no effect on me.

"I'm fine right here. I'm not here to see you.", I said, keeping the more colorful adjectives for him to myself(for now).

"Who is this fooking twit?", Hywel asked, throwing himself down tiredly on a rather delicate looking couch(I found out later it is called a settee-See, I can be taught culture) to stare into the empty fireplace. He didn't look like he even wanted an answer to his own question but it seemed to give Connor an excuse to get all up in my grill.

"I dunno know. Maybe he should start explainin' that o' us.", Connor growled, popping his knuckles. Seriously, this guy needed to switch to decaf.

"Whoa guys…..I'm just here to talk to Arthur.", I said, not wanting to have to take out members of his family before I even had a chance to speak with him. His name had a very immediate effect on the room, with all the joviality and lightness of a lead balloon. Like piranhas locking in onto a drop of blood, the four brothers suddenly made me their center of attention. If was a coin toss at the moment whether they were going to try to lay me out or talk me down. I wasn't too worried about it. Super strength is a nice thing to have in your back pocket, but there was a whole lot of fragile and expensive looking bric-a-brac in the room. I wondered vaguely how much an ugly porcelain dog napping actually cost.

"Leave him alone!", a familiar voice roared, Arthur striding into the room to stand by me, glaring furiously at them all.

"Who is this?!", Connor snarled, obviously itching for a fight.

"Where are your manners or your sense of pride? This man is a guest in our house.", Arthur snapped back at him coldly, purposely not answering the question I noticed. I'm oblivious to most nuances in social situations but I'm not stupid. I slapped on a goofy grin with a generous helping of airhead in it.

"Oh sorry, that's my bad. I'm Al, his physic's tutor. I've been out of town for a while and just dropped by to make sure Iggy had all the notes he needed for the next test. Like sorry! Is this a bad time or something?", I laughed, scratching the back of my head. The situation defused with a shaking of heads and some muttering.

"Nah, it's always like this.", Murphy grinned.

"But usually with a lot more of the running around and fighting bit.", Ryan added. Connor shot them a glare before turning his attention back to me.

"Beggin' yor pardon then. I thought yer might be a friend o' the little ponce.", Connor said darkly. Yeah, he was so becoming my most favorite person in this room right now. It really took effort to keep my hands from curling into fists, while still smiling vapidly at them all.

"Not bloody likely. He only has imaginary friends. Barking mad that one.", Hywel smirked, settling back on the couch now that all the excitement had died down. Arthur remained silent though his cheeks turned a sharp shade of scarlet. I took deep breathes in an effort to calm myself down. The Irishmen hanging suddenly off of my neck were not helping.

"I'm thinking this Mr. Al needs to join us for dinner.", Ryan said slyly.

"Aye, that is gorgeous. Then we can tell him all aboot our dear little brother.", Murphy snickered rudely.

Arthur's jaw clenched tight, looking ready to argue or explode. I was leaning toward explode. I decided to step in again in attempt at order.

"That sounds just swell guys, but I'm just here for a hot second. No need to go out of your way.", I explained quickly, extracting myself from the twin's monkey grip.

"But I insist.", an older voice rang from the back of the room, a voice that brokered no argument. All of us turned as one to the man entering the room, as the levels of stress hitting the ceiling.

"I would love to meet the man tutoring my son, Mr. Jones.", Lord Albion Kirkland, ambassador from the UK and Arthur's father, stated in a cold clear voice.

He wore a look that I recognized well, like he had just found a prize or someone he could make money off of, and knew my name.

Fuck.

Game changer.

Lord Albion Kirkland was a tall lean man in his later years. I would say he would make a great James Bond but his dead gray eyes cast him more as a villain. He was born and bred nobility, and probably hadn't done a day of real work in his entire life. His father had been an excellent businessman in investments which is the only reason the Kirkland's still had any real money to their impressive name and lineage. Albion had been lacking in that department though, and had many bad habits in the forms of women, alcohol, and gambling cause throwing good money after bad just wasn't enough for him. His only good decision in life it seemed was to marry Arthur's mother, Emily who was a Lady in her own right. She had also had the foresight to keep her money separate from her husband's and to put it into a trust fund in unborn son's name if anything happened to her. Albion couldn't touch it, both good and bad conditions for Arthur. The Kirkland's were fine for now because apparently his other sons had an excellent head for business. They rarely got the chance though because daddy wouldn't loosen the reigns or fork over the money for them to actually start anything big or profitable on their own.

"Fuck. You know who I am.", I said dully, dropping any pretenses. Arthur turned to stare up at me, his eyes wide with question.

"I do and I am extremely curious why you are bothering to tutor my son. It seems beneath you.", Lord Albion said, giving no regard to the man standing beside me. It set my teeth on edge.

"May I have a moment with Arthur? I have to speak with him.", I managed to say without glaring.

"By all means. Please join us when you are done.", Lord Albion dismissed us, sweeping out of the room, his other sons following him though they kept looking curiously back at me. We waited until they were well out of the room to speak.

"What in blazes was that all about!?", Arthur rumbled, his hand gripping the front of my t-shirt tightly, balling up the fabric. I threw my hands up in defeat and a chance for peace.

"Not now. Is there anywhere private we can go?", I asked quickly. Arthur looked so angry he could spit, but he did let me go, gesturing for me to follow him.

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Arthur took me to his room. I looked around it a little stunned. I had never seen so many damn fairy figurines and embroidery crap in my life. It looked like every little girl's and old lady's room had been raided at some point and thrown into here. I didn't get a chance to study it further, my view blocked by a whole lot of angry Englishman.

"What in blue blazes is going on?!", Arthur snapped, glaring at me acidly.

"Iggy, I have a good explanation for…", I started, cut off by a stinging undercut to my face.

"I don't want to hear any more lies from you.", Arthur said, his expression twisted with warring emotions. I swallowed hard, unsure of what to do, as I rubbed my sore jaw.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to.", I said slowly. Arthur's visage resolute itself, losing its anger to replace it with sorrowful hurt. It made my heart ache to see it.

"Has it all been lies?", he asked softly, looking at me with strangely fragile eyes, like I had just built his entire city on sand. I reached for him, wrapping my arms around in a tight hug, my own resolution breaking in my desperation.

"No, no, don't ever think that. I had to not tell you some things about myself but my feeling for you…..our friendship was never a lie.", I mouthed into the crown of his pale hair. I felt slender arms finally respond to me, touching my waist tentatively to circle and rest on my hips and lower back.

"But when you didn't show up at school….", Arthur whispered hoarsely into my chest. I could feel the heat of his breathe through the cotton of my shirt and it burned me deep. I tried to just focus on what I was saying though it was hard.

"I know. I'm sorry. I had to go to DC.", I kissed the top of his head, smelling the scents of his fragrant hair.

"You didn't call me. You just left.", Arthur held onto me tighter. I think I forgot to keep breathing at some point.

"I thought you were mad at me. I thought you wanted some space.", I tried to explain. I stopped as Arthur looked up at me with a furious expression.

"I have been given enough 'space' in my life. Don't ever do that again.", Arthur commanded. His face and tone crumpled though toward the end.

"I won't, I won't. What is it?", I asked frantically, tears starting to leak from his forest eyes to trace silvery paths down his reddened cheeks.

"I thought you left because you hated and couldn't stand me anymore. I was horrible to you.", Arthur whispered, looking down and away from me, his face still and almost devoid of any emotion, my poor little lost lord. Have you been alone for so long that you just expect people to leave you on whim?

How sad…

How lonely…..

How…..

Brave.

"…..Does anyone ever see that in you? Do you even see it in yourself?", I wondered as I stroked the soft paleness of his cheek with the back of my hand. He leaned into the touch, sighing from it.

"Who are you?', he asked me in tones so soft I almost didn't hear them.

"Alfred F. Jones.", I smiled gently, running my thumb feather light along his bottom lip. He let me and it was as soft as I had imagined.

"What are you?", Arthur tried again, taking off my glasses to stare into my eyes. I knew they glowed in the dim lighting of the room, their glow casting Arthur's face in shadow. He did not look away from them though. If anything, he seemed drawn to them, our faces mere inches apart.

"I'm a dreamer…an explorer…..a…

"A hero?", Arthur said wistfully.

"That to.", I smiled

"You still have not answered my question though.", Arthur huffed, his fake irritation ruin by the smile playing on his lips.

"I am…..a lot of things. It would take too long to explain right now, but I am yours. All of me.", I put everything on the line, waiting on pins and needles for Arthur's answer. It did manage to make him uncomfortable, the Englishman drawing back from me, his sudden absence leaving my skin cold and wanting. He left me standing there so that he could regard me from the safety of his bed.

"Why did you go to DC?", he asked, not accepting my offer, but not rejecting it either. I didn't know whether to be relieved, elated, or depressed. Instead of answering him flat out, I dug around in my bottomless pocket to produce a small curled up ball of feather and fur that I placed on his lap. It was an odd shade of green, a pastel mint in color. Delicate wings unfurled themselves from around a fluffy small body to reveal more soft fur and long ears. For you who are driving the short bus, it was a green bunny with wings.

Arthur stared down at it, stunned into speechlessness. He lifted a shaking hand to gently touch warm fur. The bunny tilted his head adorably to the side, leaning into the attention.

"This is Flying Mint Bunny. How did you….", Arthur gasped, jumping slightly as the strange animal climbed up his sweater vest to sit on his shoulder, nuzzling his cheek.

"I saw him in your journal. He pops up a lot in the stories so I figured he was important. I made him for you.", I grinned, actually feeling a little impressed with it myself. It was light-years ahead of what I had made for Matthew. That polar bear was so getting replaced(His faulty memory had always been a sore point with me).

"You?! You made him!?", Arthur was truly torn between lavishing affection on his new friend and staring me down. The bunny won out in the end. I moved to join him on the bed, feeling a smidge jealous now.

"Yup, It's what I do."

"That's impossible.", Arthur frowned.

"Green bunny on your shoulder says it's not. It just all highly improbably like most things in life.", I corrected gently, "It's what I do….what I'm good at. Improbably things….long shots."

"Like me.", Arthur said ruefully, his whole body seeming to slump. Mint Bunny cooed at him worriedly(I had programmed the thing to ease into talking). I sensed something more though in that short sentence.

"What's wrong?", I asked, getting a bad feeling.

"I'm glad I got to see you again.", Arthur said sadly, nibbling his bottom lip as his hands dry washed themselves, "I am going back to England for a while it seems."

I really didn't like the sound of that for some reason. I nodded instead of answering, a small gesture for him to continue.

"I am going to get married."

"…."

"…."

"Wait?! What?!"


	8. Chapter 8

Shut the back door, hold the phone, what the fuck, how the hell had I missed this?

"What do you mean you're getting married?! To who!?", I yelled, jumping up off of the bed while making a mental list of hit men to hire. I didn't know who this bitch was, but she was going down. It was on like Donkey Kong, yo. No one takes my man and lives.

"I don't know. I haven't even met her.", Arthur said crossly, looking very depressed. Mint bunny patted his cheek with its paw sympathetically, "It is not like I want to."

"Then don't!", I said desperately, trying(and failing) to calm myself down before I did something really stupid or awesome. It kinda went either way with me-blow something up or create a whole new conversion theory.

"It's not that simple Alfred. My father needs me to do this for the good of the family.", Arthur sighed, moving the bunny to his lap to stroke at its fur absently.

"What a crock of shit! What do you want to do? Tell me Arthur. Do you want to marry this girl?", I asked, dropping my hands on either side of him, caging my Englishman against the mattress. He didn't resist me, just fell back despondent and silent.

"….."

"Do you want to get married?", I asked, saying it before I even realized it I had.

"Well no, but…", Arthur rubbed his face tiredly, not even catching onto my meaning.

"I meant to me.", I clarified.

"Would you please be serious.", Arthur rolled his eyes up at me. He stopped when he realized I was not smiling, my expression solemn yet resolute.

"I'll show you how serious I am.", I said simply, already walking toward the door as a plan willed itself into existence inside my head with the intensity of fireworks going off in a confined place. Leaving Arthur behind, I found Jeeves quickly enough. I swear that man was psychic or something.

"I need you to take me to Lord Albion.", I said in cold, clear tone.

"May I inquire for what purpose sir?", Jeeves asked, looking me over. My glasses were still off and I was tense, muscle rippling in eager response.

"To chew bubble gum and kick some ass, and I'm all out bubble gum.", I flashed him a dangerous smile. To my surprise, he just nodded.

"Very good sir. Right this way.", Jeeves said calmly though I could swear there was a note a mirth hiding in his voice.

"You're good people.", I laughed, making the very English butler cringe at my misuse of the King's English.

"Indeed.", he said dryly.

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I entered the dining room with a bang, kicking the heavy door open to make the occupants of the room jump. My pace didn't stop there or was hindered as I jumped up onto the table to walk its length, stopping just short of Lord Albion himself, who looked up at me with cold gray eyes. I could give flying fuck about him and everyone else in the room now though. This kid's gloves were off and I could be who I really was. Having my secret exposed like that had freed me.

"How much for Arthur?", I asked flat out(and some people say I lack tact).

"Excuse me?", Lord Albion glared, not even looking vaguely flustered to be talking to someone standing on his dinner table or them asking his son's monetary value.

"How much will it cost to give Arthur back his life?", I clarified, ignoring the grumbling and snide remarks of his brothers.

"Young man…..", Lord Albion sighed, seeming quite put out.

"Drop the high and mighty lord act. I'm American and I don't give a shit about blue bloods. I'm asking you nicely. How much?", I demanded as Lord Albion finished his wine to throw him napkin down.

"More than you can afford I assure you.", He stated simply.

"Don't be to sure. I can afford a lot.", I glared down at him. He shrugged, obviously not impressed.

"This is a business deal that had been in place for years on both ends. It does not matter what you or Arthur wants.", Lord Albion said languidly, resting his head on his hand in boredom. This was a man who was used to getting what he wanted. He seemed amused by me.

"You know who I am, but have no clue what I can do or anything about me.", I realized in amazement.

"You are just some spoiled child with some good parlor tricks. Why should I be impressed by that? Now kindly get down off of my table. You are scuffing the wood", Lord Albion yawned. I gaped down at him, stunned. No one had dared to dismiss me like that in years. It was almost funny.

"Screw you. I was trying to be nice.", I said good naturedly, jumping down to take a vacant seat, "I am giving you one last chance to name a price. Make some money and let Arthur go or else I make three phone calls."

"How droll. Only three phone calls? I am simply quivering with fear.", Lord Albion said, the amount of sarcasm in his voice obvious even to me.

"Last chance." I warned.

"Mr. Jones, please don't bore me with idle threats.", Lord Albion sighed, rolling his eyes as only a lord could. I shrugged, getting up.

"If you will excuse me then, this might take a few minutes.", I told him.

"Take all the time you need." I was informed as I was laughed and jeered out of the room.

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When I returned about an hour later, I found Arthur sitting in the seat I had originally taken, with Flying Mint Bunny growling ferociously in his lap. The rest of the room regarded the strange creature with caution, Connor already bleeding for multiple but shallow wounds. I had forgotten to mention that I had programmed Mr. Bunbun to attack anyone who decided to fuck with my Iggy. The creature looked delicate but I had made it body out of metal and polymers of my own design. That thing could survive a direct hit from a nuke or make mincemeat out of a bear. I had basically made the Terminator Energizer Bunny with the direct orders to defend and protect my love taco. Oops, forgot to mention that, my bad. I'll try not to lose any sleep over it.

"Sorry about that. Time difference kinda messed things up.", I smiled, taking a seat next to Arthur, who looked over at me puzzlingly. I guess between bunny attacks, no one had told him about what had happened.

"I am still waiting to be impressed Mr. Jones. I do not have all night.", Lord Albion glowered, nursing a small cut on his own hand. Mint Bunny was a beast.

"Wow, someone put on their cranky pants. You told me to take all the time I needed.", I smirked, "Don't worry though. This party is just getting started. We're just waiting on one of the guests. New York traffic can be a real bitch sometimes."

Jeeves brought any further bickering to a halt as he announced a man entering the room, his normally steady voice shaky, his skin pallid. Ivan Braginski had that effect on most people.

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First phone call  
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The Russian entered the room, bringing a noticeable chill with him. He was a tall man, who tended to loom over people whether he meant to or not. He had pale skin covered in old scars, colorless hair, and always wore a long cream colored scarf around his neck not matter how hot or cold it was or what season it was. His most startling feature was his eyes which were a pure violet color, as cold and as clear as cut amethysts. They always held a touch of winter in them.

Ivan was obviously young with a baby face, its innocence ruined by the continuous cruel smile that never seemed to reach his eyes. He was vicious and sadistic, practically inhuman. He was the best damn lawyer that money could buy.

"What took you so long, commie?", I asked, cause I like to poke the bear.

"Fuck you da. I hate New York.", Ivan smiled back, flipping me the bird good naturedly.

"Charming. Why is this ruffian here?", Lord Albion broke up our little love fest, to curl his lip scornfully at the Russian. Ivan smiled sweetly at him, and I almost felt back for the Englishman. He had just made the lawyer's shit list.

"Sign these, dipshit.", Ivan told me, already presenting highlighted paperwork and a pen to me.

"What is going on?", Lord Albion asked finally, after a couple minute of me scribbling my name through a thick stack of very official looking documents.

"Oh wow, well you are going to love this. I just bought Morris, Holmes, and Baker Imports and Exports. All of it.", I said, smiling viciously as Lord Albion paled and collective jaws dropped.

"B-but that's….that's impossible…", Lord Albion sputtered, gasping for air.

"No. Just highly improbable.", I corrected for the second time that day, "Come to think of it though, those were your last remaining business partners, weren't they? I guess the whole wedding thing is off of the table now."

Lord Albion fell back in his chair stunned as Arthur stared at me wide eyed. I didn't look back at him…at least not yet. I couldn't afford to lose my momentum. I turned instead to look at Arthur's brothers.

"Hey assholes, ya want to quit wasting your time here and become CEOs?", I asked them casually.

"What?", was the collective confused answer. Ivan sighed, glaring back at me as he passed them each a thick folder with a fat check pinned to the front of it.

"I just bought this huge global company and I don't have any time to run it or even really want to for that matter. You four all have business degrees and a whole shitload of time. Figure it out amongst yourselves and get back to me.", I told them.

"So we'll be workin' for ye then?", Connor challenged even as he hungrily eyed the generous starting check staring him in the face.

"Kinda. I'll drawn a paycheck but that is about it. Otherwise it's all your baby. If you assholes can keep turning a profit in five years, I just give you my shares and you can have the whole thing lock, stock and barrel.", I shrugged, ignoring Ivan's purple waves of doom. He hated it when I do shit like this.

"What's the catch?", Hywel asked, flipping through the folder.

"No catch. You leave and never come back. That's the deal.", I let all the good will drain out of my voice, leaving it harsh and barren. The brothers shifted uneasily under my unique and disconcerting glare, "You know that saying about gift horses guys…."

"Aye."

"You're checking this one's teeth. I suggest you take the money and run before I change my mind.", I said darkly enough even to impress Ivan, who smiled widely, the creepy bastard.

"Cheers.", the four chorused, leaving posthaste without a backward glance.

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Second phone call

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"So you have managed to steal all of my other sons and made the only one of value worthless to me. I can still disown him.", Lord Albion spoke in dead tones, glaring at us both. I felt Arthur trembled beside me, the old lord's words meant to hurt him more than me.

"Holy hell, you really still want to play this game with me.", I sighed, wrapping my arm around Arthur to pull him closer to me, "Go ahead sunshine. See how far that gets you."

"He will be penniless. I will have him thrown from this house and barred from the manor if he ever tries to return.", Lord Albion said empirically, his head held high.

"Wrong again, but thanks for playing, Lord Loser.", I laughed, making the man scowl at me. Ivan moved forward to produce some more paperwork, the busy little lawyer bee he was, giving a packet of it to Arthur and one to Lord Albion.

"Just to let you know Arthur is officially the new Lord Kirkland. You have dragged that title through the mud long enough.", I grinned, leaning back to fully take in the former Lord Albion's shock and disbelief. When he didn't(or couldn't) respond, I continued on.

"Consider this your unofficial notification. The real one will be here soon enough. Arthur has full possession of the title. That includes all the lands and estates that come with it."

"But that's impossible! Titles can not be given away!", Albion fumed, flinging the paperwork at me.

"No, but they can be taken away and reassigned by royal command.", I informed him, flicking random pieces of paper away. Mint Bunny batted them away from Arthur, not one sheet landing on him. The two bluebloods stared at me in disbelief.

"Lizzie is a sweet lady. I hang out with his grandkids sometime. Nice guys.", I supplies, a touch smug.

"That does not include the accounts. Those are still in my name.", Albion croaked out, struggling for some sort of control.

"Yeah, but Arthur's mom left him more than enough, and it's just been gathering a ton of interest the whole time. All he has to do is divorce you as a parent, declare himself a legal adult, and he will have full access to it. That's what's in his packet by the way if you were wondering.", I laughed, really enjoying myself a little too much.

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Third phone call  
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"Sir…..some gentleman are here to see you.", Jeeves announced, moving off to the side as the room filled with men in black. They rushed Albion, slapping cuffs onto him wordlessly.

"What the bloody hell is going on? What is the meaning of this? Do you know who I am?!", Albion screamed, struggling futilely as he was lifted bodily up to be carried out.

"Oh…while I was doing the whole title thing with the queen, I had her revoke your ambassador status as well. So I called homeland security. Long story short-You're being deported. Toodles.", I said, waving fingers at Albion as he departed with some help.

"Vell that was fun. Until next time then, comrade. до свидания.", Ivan grumbled, following them out.

"That was a lot of fun! What do you want to do now?!", I said excitedly, turned to Arthur who was pale and hunched over. His lips moved but nothing came out.

"Iggy…are you alright?", I asked, suddenly scared. This was not the response I was expecting.

"….get out….."

"What?"

"GET OUT!"


	9. Chapter 9

"You are a complete and utter idiot."

"But Mattie….."

"You had his father deported. Right in front of him. The only family he has ever known."

"He was a douche!"

"It was his father."

"Who was selling him to the highest bidder!"

"His father."

"Whatever. I thought you supposed to be on my side.", I complained bitterly into the pillow, my body curled away from my twin who had joined me on the bed to listen to my tale of woe. He was a less than a sympathetic audience.

"You always do this! What the hell happened to baby steps!? How in Maple did you even get to deportation or think for a second that that was a good idea?!", Matthew face palmed.

"It just kinda happened!", I chose to tell the ceiling, my only true friend. My face was pinched and jerked to the side to look into aurora borealis tinted lilac eyes.

"Alfred. Deportation doesn't just 'kinda happen'. You really fucked up this time.", Matthew growled, letting me go only when his point had been made. I rubbed my aching face.

"So no words of wisdom for your Padawan, Obi-wan?", I sighed, risking a hopefully look up at Matthew. He didn't return it, shaking his fair head at me.

"Sorry Solo. You screwed the pooch and blew up the Death Star. May the force be with you cause you need it, hoser."

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I wandered aimlessly around the campus, not bothering to go to class. The only reason I went to this school was to see Arthur and he wanted nothing to do with me now, so really what was the point?

The day reflected my mental state, the sky iron gray and permanently overcast. It rained on and off but I ignored it, didn't even really feel it. All I felt was numb. My feet took me to the school's garden to the high roses bushes that hid Arthur's bench. I claimed it for my own, curling up bodily on it to trace the random lines of Shakespeare my Englishman had written over its smooth worn marble surface. My fingers followed the path of one particular verse that caught my tired sore eyes.

"They do not love that do not show their love. The course of true love never did run smooth.", I sighed, tasting the truth of those words for the very first time, "No shit Will."

"Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love."

I sat up in surprise as the prose was finished elegantly, to look into eyes the color of fresh clover.

"H-hi.", I stammered, looking down at my laced fingers as if they were the most profound thing in the world. I didn't know what to say anymore to him or what to do.

"May I have this seat?", Arthur asked. I jumped up quickly, still carefully not looking at him. I was totally ready to run off before Arthur said something that would destroy my heart further. Slim fingers latched onto my jacket's sleeve though, pulling me back.

"I meant with you, git.", Arthur said dryly, making me sit back down beside him. I did what he wanted though I basically just sat there, hugging myself. The sky decided to put in its two cents as well, rain falling us in big fat drops. Shivering with a growing chill, I waited for him to start killing me slowly with his words.

"Thank you.", Arthur said, breaking the tense silence between us. I almost fell off the bench in shock. Confused, I risked a quick look at him. He looked as awkwardly bad as I felt.

"No prob.", I muttered, not really trusting myself. I had fucked up and now it was all broken. Arthur was simply doing his duty as a proper lord and gentleman. When he was done here, he would leave me and I would less of a person for it.

"Who are you?", Arthur asked, his tone gentle yet imploring. I looked over at him, unsure of what he wanted from me. My glasses were clouded and water stained for the rain, To my surprise and inner delight, he took them off, leaving my shining eyes unguarded to glow, "What are you?"

"I have been who I have always claimed to be. I'm an inventor, a shaper, a dreamer of dreams. I see the world as a star where others only see it as speck of dirt floating in space.", I sighed, titling my head up to catch rain drops on my cheeks. I didn't want to cry, at least not yet. I would let the sky do it for me until then.

"Why did you help me?", Arthur ventured, his fair hair collecting raindrops like diamonds. He was beautiful, simply and completely stunning and all I could do was smile sadly back at him, trying to find the right words to explain it all to him.

"Because…I love you. I love you so much it hurts me…blinds me.", I babbled, my hand trembling in my confession. It didn't matter now. It was all over so why not? He deserved some sort of reason for all this.

"Since when?", Arthur asked in that amazingly calm voice of his, like the world was not falling all apart around him. He took my larger hands into his own smaller ones to still their quaking with his touch.

"From the very moment I laid eyes upon you on the street in front that old bookstore in Soho…..", my voice cracked, closing my eyes so that my tears could join the rain drops to mingle life salt in with sky dew. Soft lips brushed the lids of my eyes, pressing as light as butterfly wings on them as a hot tongue flicked out to taste my sorrow.

"I used to go there to feel safe…", Arthur whispered, his hot breathe caressing my face, his fingers carding through my soaked hair. I shuddered under his touch, his scent, his words.

"I think…..I think that I could feel safe with you as well.", Arthur mouthed, his lips brushed mine hesitantly before sealing their petal softness onto my own in a sweet, rain soaked kiss.

We stayed like that for a while, until the rain gave up on us completely, letting the sun linger over our drenched connected forms.

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Arthur and I started to officially date afterward becoming the official power couple of the school, since my fair English rose wanted to still gradate from there. I stayed, of course, though it was more to keep Iggy company than anything. I still love the expression on his face when I told him that he could call me Doctor Jones(which was accurate-I have more doctorates and degrees than you can shake a stick at). He flat out refused of course, but one day, I'm sure I will be able to live out my Indiana Jones fantasy.

Surprisingly, Matthew decided to stay as well. Something about 'gotta catch them all' and 'cleaning up'. I got the impression he was not talking about pokemon and I really didn't want to know the details…..the icky, icky details. I let Mattie take over the dorm we shared to make it into his love shack or whatever. Arthur and I moved in together the following semester. I don't think Matthew was too upset about it or got lonely though.

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"So anyway….that's about it…."

"One day, I met a boy…..", Alfred told the slim floating disk as he finished up his intergalactic interview. It winked out of existence into a temporal vortex just as Arthur entered the empty classroom, giving his boyfriend a strange look.

"What are you doing in here, git? Memorizing the frog's digits?", Arthur asked, gesturing to the board behind them filled with the tags of the school's infamous BFT. Gilbert's chalk drawing of his chick was looked particularly perky today.

"I happen to be giving an interview.", Alfred shrugged, grinning fondly at his lover. An impressive bushy eyebrow was raised at him.

"About?", Arthur sighed, not questioning the lack of cameras or equipment or other people for that matter. He had come to accept the impossible as reality due to his odd relationship. Arthur found himself suddenly backed up to a desk to have his American lean meaningfully over him.

"Us. You and me. How I swept you off of your feet….", Alfred cooed, making kissy faces at his somber Englishman.

"Yes love. With all the grace of a bull in a china shop.", Arthur smirked, tweaking the American's nose.

"Ouch….just ouch. My English rose has thorns.", Alfred gasped mockingly, bracing himself up on one arm against the desk while the other found its way under the Englishman's shirt and vest to touch smooth pale skin. He ended the distance between them, claiming soft lips for his own, Arthur's witty response eaten up with tongue and teeth.

The amorous pair failed to noticed a Prussian, a Frenchman, and a Spaniard spying on them through the doorway, grinning like pervy madmen and taking pictures.

But that was normal. Alfred and Arthur tended not to notice a lot when they were together.


End file.
